


for now (and forever)

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Military, Rimming, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:40:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 83,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2232741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It's nice that you want to offer that, but I just can't do that. First of all, it's illegal."</i>
</p><p> <i>Louis shakes his head vigorously. "No, no. It's not like one of us is gunning for a visa."</i></p><p>  <i>"Listen to yourself," Harry laughs, shaking Louis' shoulders. "Don't you think it's a bit weird to con the country you're supposed to be serving?"</i></p><p>Louis is going into the Army, Harry is going nowhere, and there's nothing like a little identity fraud between friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoop whoop, here we go. Here's the marriage-of-convenience/fake relationship/friends to lovers/military fic I've been working on for a bit. I'm one trope away from trope bingo! ;)
> 
> Thanks to [T](http://www.sadamenoito.tumblr.com) for the encouragement and suggestions, as well as [Daisy](http://www.hugslourry.tumblr.com) and [Sarah](http://www.princessofthelandofstench.tumblr.com) for britpicking. 
> 
> Disclaimers: I make no profit on this. I do not claim that this happened or that the people portrayed in this piece of fiction behave or think in this way. Title snagged from Cher Lloyd's "Oath", because that song is so fitting, I don't even care. Please do not send this to anyone featured in this fic or anyone he or she may know.

Harry swallows the lump in his throat and for the thousandth time this week, he wonders if he should just swallow his pride and move back to Holmes Chapel.

He always puts on a peppy voice whenever he is on the phone with his mum, but the truth is, life in Bristol is kind of shit. His flat is a verified trainwreck. There are more rodents inhabiting the space than people, and even then the people that do live there loathe him. Sure, he doesn’t exactly pay his share of rent on time, if ever, but they’re still painfully rude about it. It had started with polite reminders, offers to pay up front and allow Harry to pay them back, and then it had moved into passive aggressive sticky notes on his door, and eventually glares aimed his way. Sure, the glares were after they offered him a bite or a cuppa, but he still felt them. 

Today, though, has brought a whole new level of shit to his living situation. Or really lack-thereof. 

He's running late to work, tugging on his boots with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. 

"Harry," Cerys greets, popping her head into the hallway. Harry waves at her briefly, but doesn't say much for fear of spitting foam at her. "Can you come into the living room for a second?"

Harry looks at her, eyes wide and shoe dangling. "I'm late," he says, but it comes out as more of a gurgle.

"It's really important," she says, pleading, hand on her hip. He groans and moves back to the sink to spit and rinse. He finishes with the boots and then hustles to the living room to see what she wants. 

The others are already in there-- Cerys, Alfie, and Nikolai. They form an odd bunch: Cerys and Alfie are both university students, but Nikolai is approaching mid-forties and still lives in a degenerating flat with twenty-somethings. He creeps Harry out most of the time.

"Harry, I'll be blunt," Alfie says, voice firm and practiced. "You don't pay your share. We can't let you live here."

Harry coughs into his fist, feeling awkward. "I signed a lease, though."

Cerys and Alfie exchange a look. "We talked to the landlord. He agreed that you not paying is hurting all of us, and um, breaking the lease to begin with. He is willing to let us sublet your room for the rest of the term."

"Are you serious?" he asks, looking at all three of them. They stare blankly at him. Harry's not one to typically explode with anger, but right now, he feels betrayed. They went behind his back and talked to the landlord? How long had they been planning this?

The heat fills his belly, spreading up to his face as he works himself up. He knows he's shit at paying, but they understand that. They know that he's in a tight spot money-wise and struggles to just pay for the basics. He feels shame for getting to this point, of course, but he also resents that they've just now chosen to confront him with this.

"I need to go," he repeats, looking at the clock ticking away on the wall. He is really late now. "I guess I'll have a think and talk to you guys later."

He rushes out the door, remembering to grab his keys and wallet before doing so. Not that it really matters; only moth balls inhabit his wallet these days.

He hustles down the street, practically bowling people over in his haste to get to the shop. He throws himself into the door, apologising over the sound of the tinkling bell.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, casting his eyes around for his boss.

"Okay," John responds from behind a wall of records. His voice sounds quite dull-- most of the time he's a jovial, free spirit sort. He's never mad if Harry shows up late, but he always shows some kind of emotion. Harry throws his coat behind the counter and hoists himself onto the chair behind the till.

Looking around, he notices that there's no one in the shop. It's not a surprise. It's not a very profit-gathering shop-- only hipsters buy vinyl these days, or older folks who can't let go of their youth. Even then, people are eager to buy records for cheap off eBay, not daring to go into the intimidating record shops in town. 

Granted, Harry had started working here when he moved to Bristol, and it just made sense to hold on to it when he quit uni. 

Now that he's at work, he lets himself think back to getting accosted by his flatmates. Getting kicked out, _fuck_. He knows he's been shit at paying rent, but his credit card bill has been weighing down on him extra hard recently. John's been putting him on less shifts the last couple months. He's cut down on food purchases recently, just sticking with starches and frozen veg, but nothing seems to help.

He should probably just swallow his pride and move home. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Harry glances around for John before he pulls it out. While he knows he could save money by cancelling his phone, then his mum would really know something's up. It's a text from Louis.

_we're still on for tonight, yes? other lads will be there..._

Harry glares at the message. He hates having to share Louis sometimes. They've been best mates their entire lives, grew up in each other's back pockets, and went off to uni together. Sure, things got a bit twisted, with Harry quitting and Louis joining the OTC programme, but they've always been the most important people to each other.

Harry just hates Louis' twatty university friends. Well, ‘hates’ is a strong word. He's sure they're decent people, it's just that he's heard a few comments thrown out over time that make him cringe. Whenever one of them says something ignorant, whether it be about a server or a pull, Louis and Harry will meet eyes and smirk. Harry rolls his eyes, Louis smiles on, and yet Louis still remains friends with them. Harry doesn't get it. 

_wouldn't miss it!_ , he texts back. 

He's not looking forward to spending the night feeling bad for himself, drinking water as to avoid spending money, ignoring hunger pangs. Not to mention the reminder of Louis' impending departure-- actually separating them for the first time in over a decade. 

Unfortunately, Louis has a lot of people to spend time with before he leaves, so these group outings have been more and more frequent.

Over the course of his six hours at the shop, he rings up about four purchases. He greets another few people who wander in, stroll about the aisles and flip idly through the discount bins before leaving and avoiding his eyes. 

Just past seven he flips the sign on the front door to closed, and moves to count up the money in the till. He's had to restart on the coins twice when John lurks on the other side of the counter. 

"Harry, pause that for a second. I need to talk to you."

On hearing the gravity of his tone, Harry's heart plummets to the earth. There's no way that what he's about to say could be any good.

Harry listens to the clink of a coin hitting the counter as he waits for John.

"I know you asked about your shifts," John starts. Harry's heart seizes in on itself. He's about to get fired. He's about to get fired and kicked out of his flat on the same day. "Truth is, I've been trying to run more shifts alone because things have been tight around here. It has nothing to do with you-- you've always balanced everything fine. It's just that no one's shopping these days. Property values in this horrid neighborhood are going up. I've been leaking money for months now, just trying to hang on because I love this place."

"I love this place, too," Harry says. The walls are full of old posters and memorabilia. The till is wonky and completely out-dated but makes a satisfying ping. 

"I think at the end of the month, I'm giving it up. There's just no use. I've tried to work the numbers, but even without you, I'm bleeding funds."

"What if we added CDs?" Harry asks.

"No one buys CDs either, Harry. It's all iTunes and pirating. Keep up with the times, really."

Harry laughs, but it's hollow. "You're closing the shop?"

John nods sadly and looks around. Harry fiddles with the hole in his jeans. "Yeah, sell off the products to see what I can salvage. Hope the missus makes enough to support us both."

Harry smiles sadly and tries to ease the ache in his chest. He's struggling to breathe right now, but trying to contort his face into something resembling supportive. After all, this shop is John's life. It’s shite for Harry-- but this is John's world. 

"Anyway. I'm sorry, Harry. Like I said, s'nothing to do with you. It's that rubbish economy. People care more about funding wars than funding small businesses. But anyway. Let me know what I can do for you. I'll give you a glowing recommendation to anyone."

Harry nods and goes back to counting, head down. If he focuses on the counting, he can ignore the rest of the panic creeping up his chest.

He leaves with a shout to John, and trudges back outside and towards the pub Louis specified. He's a little late-- but when is he not-- and when he bustles in, he spots Louis and a couple of mates at a table. Louis grins around a chip and waves him over. Harry stops to get a glass of water, and then plops down with the other lads.

"Alright?" he asks. He hopes his voice sounds chipper, because he's really trying.

"Yeah, cheers," Louis says, smiling at him. Harry catches it when Louis' smile falters, sensing something's not right. Harry's smile isn't as wide as it usually is.

"Water?" Jones asks, nodding at the glass. 

Harry nods wordlessly. 

"I'm going to grab some food at the bar," Smith says, pushing back his chair. "Styles, do you want something to eat while I'm up there?"

"No, cheers," Harry says. His stomach grumbles uncomfortably. Of course he would love food, but he's going to have to hold off until he heads back to his flat for some beans on toast. 

"Will you eat some of these chips," Louis says, pushing the plate forward, staring Harry down. "I probably shouldn't eat them before training anyway."

Harry rolls his eyes and gives Louis a pointed look. Harry's not dumb. Louis plays this game all the time. He feigns that he doesn't like his food, or there's something he's allergic to (some new, previously unknown, and completely made up allergy), or he's supposed to be eating healthy. It's all a bunch of shit, really. He knows Harry's struggling. Harry's too proud to accept help from anyone except Louis anyway. 

He reaches over and grabs a chip. "You're a saint," he says sarcastically.

A half hour later, Harry is left with Malik as the other three mill about the pub. Of all of Louis' twatty pre-Army friends, Zayn is probably the least twatty. 

"You're engaged?" Harry gasps. "When the hell did that happen?"

"Two weeks ago," Zayn says. "I was bricking it."

Harry's jaw drops a bit, still trying to process the information. "Don't you think you're both a bit young for that?"

Zayn takes a swig of his drink and shrugs. "Like, I get why people say that, but no. I just knew it. Besides, it's really common in the military, to get married so young. Like, soldiers want their families taken care of when they're gone. If a soldier knows their wives-- or partners, sorry-- are being, like, paid and fed and supported, they're more likely to focus on the operation."

"I guess I understand that," Harry says slowly, trying to take it in. "But doesn't it feel wrong?"

"Not at all," Zayn says. "I knew it from the start."

Harry shakes his head, mouth feeling a bit dry. He can't imagine that kind of commitment, really. It's not that he's a serial dater by any means, but he just can't see himself settling down with anyone. All of the guys he's met in Bristol are either in Louis' OTC group (and thus off limits) or on the music scene. And those guys are pretentious and annoying beyond belief, at least in Louis' eyes, so none of them ever get the okay. 

Louis settles in across from him again and takes a sip of his beer. "Oh, gross, I forgot I hate Black Sheep." He pulls a disgusted face, which Harry suspects is completely legitimate. "Haz, you like a good pale ale, don't you?"

Harry blinks several times at Louis and doesn't respond. Louis, for his benefit, doesn't crack, just stares at him wide-eyed like he couldn't remember what kind of beer Harry likes. Like they hadn't spent years hiding away and sipping on beer even before they were eighteen. 

"You know I like Black Sheep," Harry says dully. 

"Be a love and finish that then while I go get something else. Thank you, Haz. You're too good to me." Louis laughs and flits off back to the bar, leaving Harry, Zayn, and the almost-full pint of beer.

Zayn looks over at Harry with a smirk planted firmly on his face.

"He's ridiculous," Harry sighs, taking a sip, enjoying the bitter taste. It's more than welcome after his shit day.

"I can't imagine being friends with anyone as long as you two have been mates," Zayn observes. "I can't stand most of my childhood mates. Especially not enough to buy them drinks and share my food."

"That's the difference, Malik," Louis says, swooping back into his chair with a new glass of beer, most likely wheat. Louis has been on a wheat beer kick for the last year. "I don't mind sharing."

Zayn laughs and shakes his head, and excuses himself to the loo. Smith and Jones are still by the bar trying to chat up a couple of birds, so it's just him and Louis. 

"Alright, out with it," Louis says, as soon as Zayn's away from the table. "What's got you down?"

Harry wrinkles his nose and takes another chip, shoving it in his face.

"I've had the worst day," he says simply.

"What is it?" Louis asks, leaning back in his chair. "Too many girls flirt with you at the old record store?"

Harry levels him with a look that tells him this is serious. 

"Well, the record store _is_ really old," he says slowly. "Basically, my boss is getting rid of it. Like, at the end of the month. So I'm kind of out of a job."

"Oh shit," Louis sighs, leaning forwards again. "We'll find you a new one," he maintains.

"Also my flatmates are kicking me out. They ganged up on me this morning and basically said the landlord is breaking my lease."

"What? Why?" Louis asked, angry.

"Well," Harry said slowly, eyes directed towards the ceiling, "I may not have been paying my rent."

Louis' head drops onto the table with a dramatic thud. "Harry!" he sighs, exasperated.

"Don't," Harry snaps. "I know. I know I'm an idiot. But what was I supposed to do? What _am_ I supposed to do?"

"We'll figure it out," Louis says again, trying to placate Harry. 

"No, Louis, I literally don't know what to do. I can't move home. My mum is already embarrassed that I quit uni, and she and Robin are trying to downsize to a smaller flat."

"I guess Gemma being about to pop doesn't help in that direction either," Louis muses. He's seen Gemma's pregnancy oversharing on Facebook enough to know that that wasn't an option, either. 

"No job, no home," Harry grouses, taking a long swig of the beer. "No best friend." He grabs another chip, mood successfully soured.

"I'm still going to be your best mate," Louis says. "Please finish this plate and this beer and come back to mine. You look a bit hysterical. I don't fancy bailing you out tonight if you snap and assault your creepy old flatmate."

Harry reluctantly drags the plate closer to him and really digs in earnest. Louis doesn't say much else, just patiently waits for Harry to finish up. 

"We're heading out," Louis mouths to his mates, gesturing to Harry. "See you later!"

Louis' flat is fairly close to the pub, about a ten minute walk. "You know, despite the water and the parks, Bristol is shit, innit?"

Harry chokes on a laugh and looks around. A man pissing on a mural. A group of capital L lads cheering down the street. When they first moved here, they were in love with the city. The festivals, the cafes, the art everywhere. They've lived here for about 3 years, just enough time for Louis to go through university. But the last few months have been the hardest-- knowing that he's stuck in a rut, and worst of all, Louis getting ready for his big fancy Army officer training programme. Thinking about living here without Louis has ruined his perception of the city.

Harry unzips and toes off his boots at the doorway of Louis' flat. They've never lived together, despite moving to Bristol at the same time, since Louis' priority was access to the university, and Harry's was cost. Louis' own set of flatmates are alright. They seem like normal students-- kind of snobby, but still naive enough to think they can make a difference.

"Hey Harry," Posey greets from the sofa. He waves.

Louis leads him into his bedroom, shutting the door behind them with a click. He blinks around the darkness for a moment until Louis flicks the lamp on. Harry instantly climbs on top of Louis' bed and face plants across the pillows.

"We'll figure it out," Louis says, for what seems like the fifteenth time in the last hour. "I don't know how yet, but we will."

"But here's the thing," Harry croaks, flipping onto his back. He stares at the spot where Louis perches at the end of the bed. "I did this to myself. I feel like this is all some karmic payback for something. But I made my bed and I should lie in it."

Louis doesn't argue, but Harry can tell he doesn't agree. He looks at Harry without saying a word, mouth twisting.

"Okay, we'll suspend this conversation for now."

Harry laughs a little. They've always been weirdly entwined in each other's lives. 

(Granted the whole 'Army' thing came up before Harry had any say. Louis has always been a bit of a hero. His mum reading King Arthur tales to him as a child hadn't helped.)

Harry makes room as he and Louis argue what to watch on Netflix. It's not even arguing, really, since they've been marathoning both Mad Men and The West Wing in fits and bursts. 

Balancing the laptop on his lap, Louis groans, but presses play for another episode of Mad Men. Harry starts to drift off after the first episode, the stress from the day finally taking its toll.

"I'm going to go set up on the sofa," Harry mumbles, moving to sit up.

Louis reaches out and grabs his wrist. "Posey and her friends are still out there," he says. "Just stay in here."

Harry shrugs and stands. He peeks out into the living room where the girls are still sitting and cackling away. In the toilet he splashes water on his face, uses some plain soap to wash it down. He has a toothbrush he keeps here-- Louis had bought it, and every few months a new one appears, and Harry knows it's always for him. He steals a bit of Louis' toothpaste and scrubs, relishing the way it chases his beer and chip breath. He fills a cup with water and heads back to Louis' bedroom. 

Harry crawls back into bed as the episode plays on. 

"Do you want me to shut this?" Louis asks. 

Harry shakes his head wordlessly and curls up on his side, letting his eyes drift shut. He listens to Don Draper do something selfish as he finally lets himself unravel.

Morning comes faster than he expects, so when he stirs and feels his body come into its own, he realises that he's not in his flat. It's warmer, much warmer, so much so that he's shucked a bunch of the blankets down below his waist. 

He flips to the other side and sees Louis there, awake and scrolling through his phone. Louis' eyes are wide, red-rimmed, and he seems surprised at the movement.

"Ah, morning," he says.

"Morning," Harry mumbles, voice raw. "Time?"

"Just before 10," Louis answers.

Harry nods and closes his eyes again. It's not that he expects to fall asleep again-- or that he needs more of it-- just that Louis' bed is so comfortable. 

The bed shifts and Harry listens to the slap of Louis' bare feet leave the room. He comes back a few minutes later and settles back in.

Harry peeks out of one eye, to see Louis with a container of leftover Chinese and a fork.

"Chinese for breakfast?" he croaks incredulously.

"It's practically lunch," Louis maintains. "Brunch."

Harry sits up and opens his mouth, looking for a bite.

Louis sighs and obliges, stuffing a fork of cold noodles in Harry's mouth.

"Thanks," Harry says. He stretches his back a little bit, feeling things pop into place. He cracks his neck and ignores the way Louis grimaces.

They sit in silence for a moment as Louis digs through the takeaway container. 

"You look like shit," Harry says.

Louis huffs out a laugh. "Wow, thank you." 

"You're welcome."

Louis pulls a funny face at him, which Harry instantly copies.

"I was actually awake all night," Louis admits. "Thinking about what to do."

"Louis, this isn't your--"

"Wait. Hear me out on this. Let me-- um. Yeah. Basically, I have an idea."

"Okay? Why do you sound like that?"

Louis turns and puts the takeaway box on the side table, ignoring the way the fork tips it over. 

"Zayn and Perrie are engaged," he says slowly. 

"I know," Harry agrees. "We were talking about it last night. They're mental."

"Yeah," Louis continues, fidgeting. "But it kind of makes sense, though, right? She gets to live in the barracks and have all that support while Zayn's training and on ops."

"I guess," Harry shrugs. 

"I think we should get married."

Harry laughs so hard, he disturbs the birds outside, causing them to scatter away. His laughter cuts off when he sees Louis' face.

"Oh, you're not laughing," he points out.

"No. I'm being serious."

Harry shakes himself to make sure he didn't fall back asleep. He sits back on his heels, getting a good look at Louis.

"I have known you a decade, and you have had some crazy ideas, but this is by far the craziest thing you have ever said."

"Not crazier than moving away to Bristol for university," Louis starts.

"Far crazier than that," Harry corrects.

"Listen," Louis says, "I kept thinking about you last night like, on the street or homeless or as a rentboy."

"I'd be a good rentboy," Harry argues, trying to lighten the mood.

"Too good!" Louis says. "I can't just watch you deal with this on your own. I need to help you and you need to let me help you."

"I don't know," Harry starts, "can't you just help me fix up my CV?"

"Your CV is shit," Louis points out.

"Wow, what a pal," Harry drawls. "I should definitely just _marry you_ instead."

"No, this is a good idea. Listen. One: you get to live in subsidised housing on the barracks. Two: Six months at a time you get the place to yourself."

"Because you're at war!" Harry interrupts, hardly believing what Louis is saying.

Louis ignores him and moves on. "Three: You get out of Bristol. Four: New friends!"

Harry flops back down on the bed in frustration. "I'm not Army wife material, Louis."

Louis snickers, earning a glare from Harry.

"I know that, Harry. Or so you tell me."

Harry viciously kicks out at Louis.

"Spousal abuse, help," Louis laughs.

Harry sits up again, shaking his head.

"It's nice that you want to offer that, but we just... can't. First of all, it's illegal."

Louis shakes his head vigorously. "No, no. It's not like one of us is gunning for a visa."

"Listen to yourself," Harry laughs, shaking Louis' shoulders. "Don't you think it's a bit weird to con the country you're supposed to be serving?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "You know perfectly well that I don’t care about the greater good."

"So I've heard a few times. Doesn't mean you're not proposing fraud."

"If we're getting technical, I think it's more of a scam."

"You're an idiot. A good friend, but an idiot." Harry says, brushing the topic off. "Do you mind if I use your shower?"

Louis shakes his head. "Of course not. Don't use Posey's shampoo-- the colour-treated stuff. She'll murder me."

Harry grins and tip toes through the flat to the toilet. He turns the shower on nice and hot, letting the steam waft through the small space. Among all of the other things that are better in this flat than his own, the water pressure here is pretty good. At his flat, it's more like showering under someone who has a spitting problem. Harry hates spitters.

He sinks under the warm water, letting himself think more on the last twenty-four hours. There are times, and this is one of those times, where Harry wonders if he's the focus of a reality tv programme. Like that Jim Carrey film, The Truman Show. Because days like the last day just don't happen to normal people. First getting booted from his flat, then getting fired from his job, and then having his best friend propose to him.

Jesus. If he and Louis ever married, the world would be in trouble. Their friendship has been a disaster from the start, with them one-upping each other and generally causing a ruckus wherever. Harry's always had a hard time saying no to Louis, so whenever Louis comes up with some grand idea, he's likely to go along. Like that time Louis decided a last-minute road trip before their A-Levels was a good idea. They ended up stranded in Wales.

Harry smiles to himself. As shit as everything is, the fact that his best mate actually suggested marriage is truly laughable. Amazing. 

His mum would piss herself-- she loves Louis more than him. 

It's actually kind of a huge deal, he reasons with himself as he lathers the soap up in his hands. Louis has always wanted to be married. Harry, too, but never had they entertained the thought that they could marry each other. If they were to do it, eventually they'd both find people they truly want to be married to, and then they'd just... get divorced? Could they still be friends? Aren't divorced people supposed to hate each other? His parents don't get on, and neither do Louis'. 

It's not even the whole crime-fraud-scam aspect that bothers him, if he's being honest. He just can't let Louis spend his time married to him. It'd be wasting time that they could use to get married to people that weren't each other. Scoping the scene, as it were. 

It would be one thing if Louis would be deployed all the time. Harry could almost picture it then. Louis wouldn't have time to be out dating if he were on ops, but with the post-deployment windows of time, they'd still have to live together. Do married, domestic stuff.

What would Louis even be gaining if they were to do it?

 _If they were to do it_ , his mind repeats as he shuts off the water. He stumbles out of the tub, careful not to fall. He stands there, dripping onto the bath mat before he finally blinks and grabs a towel. 

Somehow Louis always finds a way to get Harry to go along with these ideas.

He wraps Louis' dirty towel around his waist and balls up his trousers in his hands, heading back to Louis' room.

"Okay, so purely hypothetically," he says as he walks in the room, "what would you be gaining from this? I'm gaining a place to live and some stability. And you?"

Louis smiles. " _Hypothetically_ , I would be able to rest easier knowing my best mate isn't out there giving a blowie for ten quid."

"Excuse you, I'd charge more."

"I mean, I wouldn't be able to stand it if I knew you were, like, homeless or dealing or doing something else extreme to avoid moving home."

Harry raises an eyebrow and does not point out that a fraudulent marriage also constitutes extreme behaviour. 

"I know I haven't like said anything because, you know, feelings and all, but I'm pretty terrified about the future. Like, yeah deployment scares the piss out of me, but even just being at training for the next year. Just life in general. I've always had you around since I was a horrific prepubescent and all. There hasn't been one day where I couldn't count on you to be there for me. So like, I don't know where I'm going to be stationed, and I guess part of me feels like having you around would be nice. I'm actually being selfish, you see. And childish, what with my refusal to grow up and all."

Harry nods silently. 

"That's incredibly unselfish, actually, but I get it. I don't really want you to go anywhere either. The thought of living in Bristol without you makes me a bit ill."

Louis chuckles, still leaning back against the headboard. "Yeah, we've always been a bit codependent."

Harry smirks and shrugs.

"So hypothetically, how long would this last?" Harry asks again, kneeling on the bed.

Louis sits up and digs through his drawer, throwing a pair of running shorts at Harry wordlessly. Harry slides them on and moves to hang up the damp towel, completing the series as Louis thinks it over.

"Last night I was thinking about this as you were passed out. I'll probably only do my minimum contract, so about five years. And I feel like maybe that should be it, right? Five years, and that way, if something happens to me, you can take care of the girls. I would trust you to do that."

"Nothing's going to happen," Harry breezes, "but I see your point. So five to six years. We'd be in our late twenties by then. That'd be the longest relationship either of us has ever been in."

Louis snorts into his hand. "The sad truth."

"This is totally tactless," Harry admits, hands up and placating, "but would we have an, er, open marriage?"

Louis starts laughing like a hyena. Harry still thinks it's a valid question.

Louis catches his breath, and then, still chuckling says, "Yeah, you could suck some dicks, H."

"I'd be discrete, naturally."

"But like, you couldn't bring him to the barracks."

Harry balked. "Oh no. I would never. And that goes for you too, obviously."

"Right," Louis agrees. "I feel like during deployment I'll have more on my hands than another guy's dick, but like when I'm home, totally. Absolutely. Yeah."

"Okay, um, what's life like in the barracks?" Harry asks.

"Better than your flat," Louis says immediately. "But I mean, it's nice. Better than either of us is used to, I think. Cheap rent, cheap food. Good community."

"I'd still need a new job," Harry points out.

Louis brings up Google on his iPhone. "There are heaps of jobs for military spouses to find work. Look, daycare staff, assistant," Louis prattles off, waving the phone in Harry's face. It moves too quickly, so the screen just looks like a blur to Harry all the same.

"Military spouse? I never saw the day."

"Oh, come off it. You get along with all my OTC mates."

"I loathe your OTC mates," Harry points out.

Louis gasps. "You've never said a bad thing about them! Besides, I know you like Zayn!"

Harry rolls his eyes and smiles. "I loathe Zayn the least."

"Zayn's the best. You have no idea what you're missing."

Harry steps on the feeling of jealousy that rises up. "Why don't you fake-marry Zayn?"

Louis laughs. "Because Zayn is real-marrying his girlfriend. Fiancée. Female person."

"Okay, so what you're saying is that we'd get married... when? Soon?"

"Before I leave for Sandhurst," Louis agrees, nodding. 

“And would I stay here while you’re there? Or head to Holmes Chapel just temporarily?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs. “Whatever you’d like. I’m sure our mums would love to see you for a few months, and Gems might appreciate the extra hands.”

Harry looks down at the blankets piled near the foot of the bed. While moving home had been something he wanted to avoid, it might be nice as a temporary solution. Especially being around people he cares about while Louis is off doing... whatever at Officer Training. He looks back over at Louis, a smile drawing across his face.

"Okay, then we'd be looking at six-years max, right? Unless there's someone else you want to real-marry. Keep in mind your first husband would need to approve the second husband."

"I'd never forget that," Louis says, hand across his heart. 

Harry looks down, and lets out an out-of-place cackle.

He looks back up and meets Louis' eyes. "Do you think our broken families contributed to our complete ruination of the sanctity of marriage?"

Louis starts laughing, too, slapping his leg. "Yeah, I'm willing to bet there's something in there. Psychology textbooks will study us. ‘Daddy issues led to scam marriages and military service.’"

Harry gets up and stares out the window at the street below. People have finally started to move through the streets, muffled conversations carrying up to the second-floor window. It's pretty grey out, but that's not a surprise.

"Bristol is shit," Harry concludes, spinning away from the window. Louis looks back at him from the bed and nods in agreement. "I'm ready for something new, I think."

Louis' face splits into a grin. "Oh yeah?"

Harry strolls back over to the bed before kneeling down in front of Louis.

Louis instantly starts laughing. "You really don't have to," Louis says.

Harry himself starts chuckling, struck with how absurd his life is.

He bows his head and slides one of his necklaces off, letting the chain slink down into his palm. It's still damp from his shower. He has a bad habit of not removing his jewellery before showering; hopefully Louis will take better care of it.

"Louis Tomlinson," he says, with a grand air of importance. "Would you do me the honour of being my lawfully wedded-- yet oddly fake-- husband?"

Louis snorts again, trying to cover it up with his hand. "I've never seen a more romantic proposal than this... considering I'm the one who brought it up first."

Harry grins and shrugs. "So what say you?"

Louis pretends to think it over. "I don't know, Harry," he says slowly, sarcasm dripping through his tone. "I mean, we just met. It's moving awfully fast." He laughs and his voice returns to normal. "Nah, let's do it."

Harry drops the necklace over Louis' head ceremoniously. He holds his fist out for Louis. Without hesitating, Louis grins and bumps it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my betas/britpickers, T, Daisy, and Sarah. They're super informative.

"I confirmed the appointment," Harry whispers, keeping his voice down so John doesn't realise he's talking on the phone. Then again, it's not like it really matters. The shop's down the toilet now; it's not like they're going to fire him. Again.

"Hi, okay. How exciting," Louis greets, catching on. His voice chirps up like it does when Louis finds something truly amusing.

It had been a week and a half since they had agreed to get married, and five days since they had actually walked into the town hall to give notice of their marriage. That had felt the strangest of all-- actually filling out that intent, feeling the clerk's eyes judging the two of them, her voice tight as she had instructed them on their next steps.

"So Friday, at half-two," Harry whispers. "Bring your passport, a utility bill or some kind of proof of address, and 35 quid. If you forget those things, I'll kill you."

Louis barks out a laugh over the line. "Yeah, got it. I'll be there."

"I'd hope you show up to your own bloody wedding, Lou," Harry insists.

Louis chuckles again. "If we want to get technical, it's not really a wedding."

"Oh you are insufferable already," Harry moans. "Is this what married life is like? Your spouse being idiotic all the time?"

"Must be," Louis muses. "Feels that way for me."

Harry snickers and stills when he realises John's in the room now, boxing up memorabilia. "Oh shit," he whispers. "Gotta go, bye." He hangs up before waiting for Louis' response.

Harry shoots a nervous smile over to John, who just smiles and shakes his head at Harry. Harry figures he must be in the clear, with the shop going under and all. John must have been fond of him all along in order to keep him until the end.

"Who's getting married, Harry?" John asks, taping another box shut.

Harry takes a deep breath. They haven't told anyone yet. They had agreed that if their mums were to find out before, they'd insist on a big ceremony. Neither of them had the patience for that anyway. Louis leaves for Sandhurst in a little over two weeks. They're heading up north next week anyway, right up until Louis leaves, and they figure they'll break it to their mums then. They'll cry of course, both out of joy and sheer anger that the boys didn't tell them. Telling them ahead of time just wouldn’t feel right, though. They'd get too attached, too emotional over a commitment that wasn't true to begin with. No, they were both certain that elopement was the best route. Then, Harry just had to survive the year with his mum and sister-- but most of that would involve waiting on Gem before the baby arrives, or helping her when he comes screaming into the world. Harry could do that. It’d be a term before Louis would come home to visit, and then they’d just have to rinse and repeat two more times, and that was it. Then Louis would be a fancy pants Officer and they'd move to somewhere else. Wherever the Army wanted them, really.

Harry spins his seat slowly towards John and grins a little bit more. The words drip out of his mouth, so unbelievable. "I am?"

He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question-- it's just that it's so absurd. John has seen Louis in the shop before, but it's not like Harry goes on and on about having a significant other.

"Didn't realise you had someone that serious," John says. He smiles kindly, which is the best possible reaction. Harry's already committed to going through with this-- the last thing he needs is his first announcement caving in on itself. John doesn't try to lecture him on being too young or taking it too fast.

"Yeah," Harry says, absent-mindedly drawing shapes in the counter with his fingertip. "I mean, you've met Louis before, right? He's come to the shop?"

"Oh, yes of course," John says, climbing up a stepladder. "I hadn’t realised that..." he trails off.

Harry can't stop the word vomit at this point. Maybe it's practice for when he has to perform in front of his mum and sister, but he can't stop the words from from slipping. "Yeah, we've known each other for our entire lives, practically. Louis is entering the Army, so it's just the right time." Technically not a lie. Actually, not even remotely a lie, which he pats himself on the back for.

John stares him down at that. "The Army, Harry? Really?"

Harry chuckles. "I know. I never saw that for myself either, but it's Louis. He's always been the most important person to me. He's really only going through with the initial contract and then he'll go back to civilian life.” He pauses. “Oh crap, I'm talking like them already."

John laughs. "Just thought you were the peace-loving type."

"You know I am," Harry says. "And actually, so is Louis. He just has a hero complex."

\---

Harry treks over to Louis' again that night when he gets off his shift. 

"Hi, Pose, it's Harry," he calls into the speaker, waiting for her to buzz him in.

When he reaches their flat, he's bone tired, but a bundle of nerves. Part of him feels like he should sleep in his own bed tonight, get used to one more night of sleeping alone before he and Louis... go through with it. But then he thinks about the rats, and the flatmates, and Nikolai's creepy look, and he decides he'd rather stay with Louis. Besides, he's going to his own flat tomorrow to move all his shit out anyway. Louis promised they could take the instruments with them to the barracks, which caused Harry to do a little jig.

"We forgot something about the ceremony," Louis says, looking at the City Council website. He doesn't look up from his laptop, but he can tell it's Harry who walks into the room.

Harry flops down beside him. "What?"

"A witness," Louis says.

"I don't think we need one," Harry answers, rubbing his eyes. "I thought someone at the town hall can do that."

Louis frowns and scrolls some more, the lines between his eyebrows deepening.

Harry watches the way his eyes scan back and forth across the screen, trying to take in information.

"Okay, I think you're right," he says slowly. "But should we call someone just in case?"

"Who would we ask, anyway?" 

Louis shrugs, and moves to close the laptop.

Harry blinks a few times. "Okay, if we were to ask one of your mates from uni, it should probably be Zayn."

Louis laughs, looking over at him. "Right, since you hate him least and all."

Harry nods cheekily, shoving Louis' phone over to him. "Do it now," he argues.

"Are you kidding me," Louis mumbles under his breath, but he still scrolls through his contacts and presses Zayn’s name before he even thinks of what to say.

"Alright, you?" Louis greets. Harry can hear Zayn's low tone from here, though he can't pick out the words.

"Yeah, so about Friday. What are you doing?" Louis waits a beat. "No, I need you to do something very important for me." Another beat. "So you know how you and Perrie decided to get engaged very quickly and I teased you mercilessly for that?"

There's a moment where Zayn says something very rapidly.

"How the fuck did you know that?" Louis says, sitting up straighter. "Fuck off. Okay. Well, yeah. I know. So half-two on Friday? 14:30, whatever, fuck. I hate you. Okay, thanks. Owe you one. Okay, cheers."

Louis hangs up the phone, looking shell shocked.

"What just happened?" Harry asks, arms splayed out. He has no idea what sense to make out of that. 

"Well, Zayn will meet us at the town hall!" Louis chirps. "And oddly enough, he knew exactly what we were doing there."

Harry chews on his lip for a moment, thinking over Louis' words. " _Exactly_ what we're doing?"

Louis shakes his head. "Well, no, not exactly. He doesn't realise we're faking it, though. But he knew right away we were getting sorted."

"He just happened to guess that we'd get married, despite the fact that he knows we're not together?" Harry asks dubiously.

Louis shrugs. "I can't explain that boy. He's just mad we're beating him to the punch, I think. Anyway," he says, brushing Harry's question off, "He said he'd meet us there, so that's that."

Harry curls up, propping his elbow on the pillow. "Have you thought about how we're going to tell our mums yet?"

Louis reaches out and presses his fingers against Harry's mouth. 

"Shhh," he murmurs. "Worry about our impending murder later."

"Future Us' problem," Harry agrees. 

\---

Harry and Louis spend the next day boxing up all of Harry's stuff in his old flat. Nikolai wanders around the flat, eyeing them warily as if he suspects Harry might steal something out of retaliation. There actually isn't all that much-- his clothes take up most of the space. The cookware takes up its own box, which causes Harry to smirk to himself. He hopes the others don't realise until tonight that all the pots and pans were Harry's. Wouldn't that serve them right? 

The noise echoes in the empty room as Louis bounds back in, fresh from dropping off another box into the boot of his car. Harry's sent so much stuff to the bin at this point, he’s basically only keeping his clothes and his guitar. And his cookware. He stuffs a few battered paperbacks into a box. He places a few photos in an envelope for safekeeping, but still ditches a bunch. Toiletries. Food. Useless decorations. The hangers in his closet. Leaving Bristol gives him a chance for a fresh start. Besides, he's not sure how he and Louis are both going to drive up north with all of their belongings without having to rent out a van. 

He leaves the mattress on the floor to the next unlucky tenant. He drops the keys onto the mattress, taking one last look at the dingy room. He won't really miss it-- it caused him more grief than anything else, but there were some good memories in here. There were the early morning guitar sessions, plucking out a tune while Sunday stood still beneath his window. There were the late nights with random boys, sipping beer and gripping at dirty sheets until his knuckles turned white. There were nights in with Louis, sitting cross-legged on the mattress while they dug through a shared takeaway.

"Let's go," Harry says, turning back and walking out of the room. He doesn't even say goodbye to the others, just double checking that he has his wallet before shutting the bedroom door behind him. He almost forgets the handful of DVDs he had left in the living room, but he shoves them into a plastic bag and bolts down the stairs. Louis already has the car running.

Harry curls up in the passenger side, propping his feet up on the dashboard.

"You're filthy," Louis says, taking his left hand off the steering wheel to swat at Harry's legs.

Harry snickers and takes his feet down.

"So will I be responsible for your car when you're at training?" Harry asks.

Louis tilts his head. "I guess so. I didn't think about that."

Harry's smirk grows.

"I swear to God, Haz, if this car doesn't survive that length of time, neither will you."

"I'll take great care of your car!" Harry insists.

Louis taps out a rhythm on the steering wheel. "Put the good petrol in, please."

Harry wrinkles his nose in protest.

"I feel like you don't trust me," Harry says petulantly.

"I'd trust you with my life," Louis argues. "Just not with my car."

"It's not even that nice a car!" Harry points out.

"Shhh!" Louis instructs. "She can hear you!"

Harry hangs his head in his hands. "Oh my God," he groans, "I can't believe we're doing this."

\---

Harry sprints towards the city hall, bowling people over on the pavement who are walking in the opposite direction. He hurtles through folks in the park, accidentally blocking pictures visitors were trying to take of the blooming gardens.

He's huffing for breath when he reaches the front steps, only to find Zayn there, looking down into the water.

"Hey," Harry gets out, trying to cover up the fact that he can't get enough air into his lungs. Zayn and Louis are proper in shape with all of that training they do. Harry can't let that weakness show right now. He makes a mental note to start running again. 

Zayn eyes him up and down, eyebrow raised. "Hi," he greets. "Do you have any clothes to change into?"

Harry flicks his hair out of his eyes and looks down at his own clothes. He and Louis distinctly said no fancy suits. First, because neither of them owned anything like that. Second, because it didn't make sense to make a big deal out of something like this. It wasn't a real wedding. It wasn't so much a celebration of their love so much as a desperate refusal to grow up, which isn’t really a dress shoe occasion.

"Nope," Harry says. Zayn's look made his dark jeans seem inadequate, his brown boots dirty and in need of a cobbler, his jumper homely. 

"In that case," Zayn laughs, trailing off. He reaches up and swiftly pulls apart his own tie, tucking it into his back pocket, letting part of it flop out like a bandana. He unbuttons the top two buttons, breathing like a man just spared from a noose. 

"Where's the other groom?" Zayn asks, looking around. Harry pulls out his phone to see if Louis had texted him.

"He's supposed to be here," Harry muses. "He had to go drop off a few papers at the recruitment centre, I guess. Thanks for doing this."

Zayn shrugs, and rolls the sleeves of his button down up. It looks like he's avoiding eye contact. The two of them are never quite sure how to act around each other without Louis there as the go-between.

Harry hadn't been lying when he said he disliked Zayn least. It's just that Zayn seems too quiet and shy when they’re together without Louis. It always makes Harry feel like Zayn is only interested in a friendship with _Louis_ , not Harry. Of course, Harry and Louis come as a package deal. Even more so now, what with the upcoming nuptials and all.

That is, if Louis shows up in time before the appointment.

"I can't say I'm surprised at this turn of events," Zayn says, smiling shyly at Harry.

"What? Louis being late? Me neither," Harry mutters.

Zayn laughs and shakes his head. "No, you and him getting married. Put it this way, and I guess I'll just speak for myself here, but it's always felt like you guys were together. Even when you both dated other guys, it just seemed like a waiting game. Like one day you'd get together and everything would tumble like dominos and you'd be married and adopting babies within the year."

Harry snorts into his hand. Zayn’s comment is nothing he hasn’t heard before. He gets a little frustrated when people seem to think it’s okay to tell him who he’s supposed to date, especially since that person is almost always Louis. Others just don’t seem to understand that that’s not how he and Louis operate. There is something almost comical about this whole situation-- how everyone around them seems to be so quick to pull out their ‘I told you so.’

"Though I'll admit that a week is a little bit faster than I had anticipated."

Harry laughs again. "Fair enough. Though I'm guessing if you hadn't proposed to Pez, then Louis wouldn't have had this bright idea, now would he?"

Harry cringes for a moment at his own wording. Louis had mentioned that Zayn didn't know it was all for show. Zayn thought they were really in love. 'Bright idea' got a little too close to the truth.

"Though from his words, it seems like you had quite the counter-proposal," Zayn says. "Oh look! There he is! Crisis averted."

"What do you mean counter-proposal?" Harry asks, though his question dies out with Zayn's distraction. 

Harry can't help but cackle as Louis bolts towards them, arms and legs waving, much like Harry had done minutes before. They were quite the pair. 

"Shit, sorry," he says as he gets close enough. He takes a few steadying breaths and then gives Harry a curious smile. 

"Ready?"

"Should ask you that," Harry responds, grin plastered on his face. He can't believe that this is something they're going to do. They're actually going to legally get married.

"Got the forms, the passport, the money. I'm good to go."

"Same," Harry agrees, patting his back pocket.

"How clinical," Zayn says. "You both realise you're making a vow for life, right?"

Harry and Louis smirk at each other, knowing what everyone else doesn't. 

Zayn coughs next to them. "Nevermind, of course you do. You both look at each other like that and I want to throw up. Let's do this."

The walk into the building is scary, like the weight of what they're doing starts to settle in. Their shoes click noisily across the floor, reverberating around the room with its high arched ceiling. He focuses on the gorgeous architecture as Louis steers them to the Registrar.

"Hello," the older woman chirps as they walk into the office. 

"Hi," Harry croaks, his palms starting to sweat. "We have an appointment to get married." He almost laughs again as he hears the words come out of his mouth. He shoots a look over to Louis, who's trying not to laugh, too.

"You filed a Notice of Intention to Marry at least seven days ago?" she asks, turning to her computer. 

"Yes," Louis says. "Tomlinson and Styles."

"There it is," she says, smiling. "The Statutory Room?" 

Harry nods. "Yes, please."

She looks at them again. "Do you need some time to change into something else?"

Zayn chokes on his laugh, and Louis just shakes his head. "No. This is us, unfortunately."

"That's quite alright," she says, turning back to her paperwork. "That'll be 50 pounds for the room, 70 for the fees."

"Great," Louis says again, sliding his credit card to her. Harry pulls out his wallet and slips a worn twenty over to him.

Louis accepts it without a glance, stuffing it into his wallet. 

"All set," the woman says. "Fill out this please, and take a seat over there. The registrar will be there with you."

Louis' leg jiggles non-stop as they wait for the officiant. Harry focuses on the paperwork at hand. He prints both of their names, their dates of birth, and so on. He doesn't even feel the need to ask Louis for his information-- Harry knows it as well as his own.

He prints out Zayn as their witness. 

Before he realises it, Louis tugs him out of his seat and down the hall, following someone in a suit. They're led into a small room, with a table and a few small chairs. There is someone else Harry has never seen sitting in there.

He stands when they walk in, offering his hand and introducing himself as Curtis Schecter, a council employee, and their second witness. Harry offers a smile. He's never met this man before-- what if he sees straight through their lie? What if he rejects them because Louis' trainers are filthy? What if he can smell the fact that they're not in proper love with each other?

Their registrar is a short, stout woman, dressed in a smart suit, Cheryl Yocum. She looks friendly enough, though Harry can't imagine how anyone would be sad with a job like this. He can't picture a happier job than being able to marry people every day.

They greet each other genially, handshakes all around, until Harry's cheeks start to ache with the smile and his palm feels moist and clammy.

"Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, both grooms," she murmurs, going over the paperwork. "Zayn Malik, witness. Curtis, council witness. Excellent." She looks up brightly. "Are you ready? Satisfied with the condensed vows?"

Harry and Louis nod in unison. 

"Great," she says, clapping. She opens her binder to a tabbed page and fixes her glasses. "You'd think I'd have this memorised by now," she laughs to herself. 

Harry risks a glance at Louis, who's grinning over at him. Suddenly, Harry's smile seems that much more natural and effortless. 

Zayn smiles at both of them, and pulls out his camera on his phone. He raises his eyebrows at Harry again, causing Harry to reach out and grab Louis' hand. He lets out a breath of relief when he finds that Louis' hand is just as sweaty as his. 

"Are you, Harry Edward Styles, free lawfully to marry this man, Louis Tomlinson?" 

Harry blinks slowly and smiling, replies, "I am."

She nods approvingly and turns to Louis. "Are you, Louis William Tomlinson, free lawfully to marry this man, Harry Styles?"

Louis grins and nods. "I am."

"Wonderful," Cheryl says. "Harry, please repeat after me. 'I, Harry Styles, take you, Louis Tomlinson to be my wedded husband.'"

Harry takes a deep breath, shaky. "I, Harry Styles, take you, Louis Tomlinson to be my wedded husband."

Louis quirks his lips like he can't believe this is happening. To be fair, Harry's having a hard time believing it himself.

"Now Louis. Please repeat. 'I, Louis Tomlinson, take you, Harry Styles, to be my wedded husband."

Louis squeezes his hand quickly, just enough for Harry's lips to quirk. 

"Wonderful. Witnesses, if there are no lawful impediments as to why these two should not be joined in matrimony, speak now.” They all look over to Zayn who just shakes his head, his smile genuine. He points the camera back at the two of them.

"Well, then. I do declare you lawfully married in the county of Bristol, and recognised as such through Great Britain."

"Yay," squeaks Harry, causing Louis to throw his head back and laugh. Harry grins and grins, until he hears Zayn’s pointed cough.

"This is the part where you kiss," Zayn points out.

"Oh, of course," Louis says.

"Just go for it," Zayn says, while both the registrar and other witness chuckle.

Harry's eyes widen for a moment, because of course this was coming. He didn't think they'd get away with this without at least a little cuddling or affection, but he didn't necessarily anticipate someone taping it. 

Harry just laughs because in for a penny, in for a pound, and he leans forward, wrapping his hand around the back of Louis' neck and pulling him in. It's close-lipped, chaste and all, but it's a kiss and it cements their marriage on camera. 

They had never kissed before, something that Harry has always been aware of. Now, there's a lot of people he's never kissed. Most people in the world, even. But for some reason, the fact that he and Louis had never kissed before always seemed significant. When they were younger, he felt it as a point of pride. They had had their sexuality crises at similar times, but it just wasn't right. They were best mates, but it was just too much to try and kiss a mate. Harry remembers sweating it out one night, thinking about how he wanted to try kissing blokes, but that Louis was off limits. Because if he kissed Louis, then who the hell would he talk about it with? And then from there it just got worse, because they had made it through their queer awakenings without snogging, and yet everyone assumed they had. So both of them had taken to aggressively correcting anyone who thought they were together. They had never been attracted to each other. Well. They had never kissed. 

That's gone out the window, now.

"Well," Louis says, pulling back, "that was fun." He looks into the camera Zayn's holding and gives it a wave with the hand that's not still gripping Harry's. "Hi mum."

Harry laughs and twists his back, waving at the camera, too. "Don't kill us, please."

Zayn stops the recording, and tucks his phone safely away in his pocket. 

"Thank you so, so much," Harry says, as he adds his official signature to the paperwork. Louis does the same, then Zayn, then the other witness and officiant. It's all said and done: Harry and Louis are legally married.

The sun still shines brightly when they leave City Hall. There are still groups loitering through the park, children chasing after pigeons. There are still young girls pulling up flowers from the roots when they think guards aren't looking. In theory, nothing is different from an hour ago. 

But the wedding certificate Harry clutches says otherwise.

"Alright, a few wedding pictures," Zayn says. "I won't charge extra, don't worry."

"Piss off, Zayn," Louis laughs, but he still holds on to Harry's shoulder.

The two of them press shoulder to shoulder, holding the certificate between them. They look rough and tumbled, all wrinkled denim and worn jumpers. Louis might have a sweat stain on his t-shirt. 

"Most absurd thing we've ever done?" Louis asks, looking to Harry as Zayn steps back for the shot.

"Absolutely," Harry agrees, looking back. "But I don't know who else I could have done this with."

"Innit, though," Louis agrees. He turns his attention back to Zayn who has his finger held up.

"Okay, another," he says, double-tapping the screen to focus it. "Ace," he finally says. Louis' phone buzzes in his pocket with the pictures and video Zayn sends him.

"I can't believe they gave this to us," Harry muses.

"Okay, lads. My wedding present to both of you is lunch today. Choose a place quite cheap, please. And remember this on my wedding day."

Harry laughs, launching himself forward to give Zayn a real hug, careful not to crinkle their wedding certificate.

\---

"I think this might be what a heart attack feels like," Harry says.

"Calm down," Louis responds, hands gripped on the wheel. He'd be more convincing if his knuckles weren't pinched white and his voice wasn’t wavering with every sentence coming out of his mouth.

They just rolled into town, moments away from pulling up to Harry's house first. All of their belongings were packed tight into Louis' car, bits fitting into each other like a logic puzzle. They had ditched most of their stuff along the way, Louis claiming to need just the minimum materials to survive. They had fought to strap Louis' mattress onto the top of the car. The seats were folded down, Louis' keyboard and bins of clothes and shoes pressing down into it. Harry's boxes of clothes and books were lost somewhere at the bottom. It didn't make for a particularly safe drive, but they hadn't needed to rent a truck, so it was worth it.

"Do you think it's sad that we lived in Bristol for three years, and between the two of us, this is what we have to show for it?" Harry asks. His guitar case balances between his legs in the front seat, all cramped up.

"That's not all we have to show for it," Louis reasons. "Not to sound cheesy, but we have memories. I got my course done. We had a lot of fun there. This is just material stuff. Useless, really."

"Mum's going to die," Harry groans. "I feel like I'm walking to my death."

Louis nods in agreement. "At least we're walking the plank together."

"Then no one will mourn my death," Harry says, leaning his head back on the rest and shooting Louis a tentative smile.

"It'll be okay. Really. It's already done, so what are they going to do? Object?"

Harry nods. "You're right. I know you're right."

"Okay, get ready," Louis says, signalling his blinker and turning onto Harry's street.

"No,” Harry sighs, all overdramatic and petulant. 

“We’ve got the story,” Louis says, like he’s reminding himself, as they slow to a stop in front of the terrace house Harry’s mum and stepdad live in.

Louis holds out his fist, smiling. Harry rolls his eyes, but his dimple notches with his quirked smile. He dutifully bumps Louis’ waiting fist, and then moves to untangle himself from the car. He leans the guitar against the side of the car, hauling a smaller box of bedsheets under his armpit. Louis unearths a bin of clothes, and the two of them waddle up the walk to the front door. Harry had banked on his mum seeing them arrive and opening the door for them. Luckily, she doesn't disappoint.

"Boys!" Anne coos before she even opens the door all the way. "What's all this?"

"I'll explain later, I swear," Harry says quickly, swooping in to give his mum a kiss on the cheek. "Basically, we're out of Bristol and... yeah." He shoots Louis a nervous glance.

"Hey, there's my favourite guy!" Robin crows, appearing behind Anne. He moves to give Louis a warm hug, taking the box out of Louis' arms to do so.

"I'm over here," Harry says. 

"He was referring to Louis," Anne points out.

Harry pouts, and waits for a hug from his stepfather.

"We're just going to drop all this off in my room, is that alright? Maybe Gem's if that space isn't being used?"

"Sure," Anne says, as she turns to go back into the house.

The boys clomp up the stairs with practised ease. Harry avoids the creaky stair on instinct, almost like the habits never left him. Almost like the last few years hadn't happened. 

"Let's put this in Gemma's room," Harry says, nudging the door open with his foot. It's been years since Gem inhabited the room, but it'll always be her's to Harry. 

The rest of the haul proves to be easy enough with the two of them working in tandem, brushing past each other in the stairway. The mattress is the worst-- they've decided it should stay in Harry's room, since Louis' not sure where they'll be stationed yet and what the housing will look like. They tag team the mattress, trying to squeeze it up the narrow stairwell while trying to avoid Harry barrelling down the stairs to his death. This is how Louis ends up with his cheek pressed against the wall, smushed in and suffocated by the mattress.

They heave it down on the ground, watching it flop. Harry's pretty grateful they left the box spring behind. They'll just have to make do for a bit. Well, it's really just Harry, since Louis will be off at Sandhurst in about a week, but that's something that Harry doesn't like to spend too much time dwelling on. 

"Let's tell them together," Louis huffs, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. Harry hastily agrees, and they both guzzle down glasses of cool water.

"Anne, Robin, are you both coming over to Chez Tomlinson tomorrow for tea?" Louis asks. Harry respects how Louis does it-- he phrases it and makes it sound like this is something they had agreed on ages ago, and he's just double-checking last-minute.

"Of course, of course," Anne says. Harry smirks to himself. He's certainly aligned himself with a crafty one.

"Alright," Louis agrees and moves to leave. "Mum is waiting."

Harry walks him over to the doorway, a cold dread creeping up on him. He's not sure how much he's going to have to spill to his mum tonight, and how much shit is going to hit the fan tomorrow.

His mum and Robin walk in the room, and Harry and Louis just kind of stare at each other for the moment. Anne and Robin don't _know_ yet, but it still feels like there should be some kind of physical affection to lay the groundwork. As it is, they're just kind of standing and staring at each other, all wide-eyed and unsure.

"See you tomorrow, Lou," Harry murmurs, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Louis. They hug for a moment, an embrace really. Not one of their usual tap on the back hugs that happens with the lads. A standing cuddle, one might call it.

Harry presses a quick kiss to Louis' temple before pulling back. That must be a good compromise, right?

Louis nods, smiling slightly. "Bye," he says as he waves with a couple of fingers. Harry avoids turning back to his parents until he sees Louis' car drive off down the street for real.

When he does turn, Anne and Robin look at him with similar expressions of awe.

"Something to share?" Anne says, smirking confidently.

"Nothing that can't wait," Harry replies. "Wow, look at the time. Definitely past my usual shower time."

Harry vaults himself up the stairwell in an effort to escape the inquisition. 

\---

The noise in the Tomlinson house is deafening, between the dozens of conversations happening all at the same time. Harry kind of just sits back from his place at the dining room table and observes. There's his mum and Jay, who seem to be in the middle of an intricate discussion on Jay's work life. Louis, Robin, and Dan argue about sports, naturally, throwing about numbers and terms like they've got space in their heads for it. Harry knows a fair bit about football himself, but the ease at which they memorise statistics frightens him. The girls argue about who was supposed to take out the rubbish earlier, and who accidentally used whose toothbrush. And then there are the babies who sit gurgling away in the high chairs, hitting their tables with their little fists and banging their own plastic dishes.

Harry's head spins with the action of it all. He suddenly feels the urge to get up and sprint out the door, pull a Forrest Gump and run until he doesn’t have to face his problems. Because right now, his shirt feels like it's soaked because he has to tell his family-- and Louis' family-- that they went and got married.

He reaches under the table and squeezes Louis' thigh, trying to get his attention. Louis breaks off from his conversation with the guys to look back to Harry.

Louis' face instantly shifts when he sees Harry's rabbit-in-headlights look. They look at each other for a moment, silently communicating. Harry's freaking out about telling everyone-- there's no other way to put it. His heart beats faster holding Louis' gaze, fingers gripping Louis' thigh tighter without meaning to.

"Harry and I have something to say," Louis says loudly, hollering over everyone else's conversations. They break eye contact and turn to their families. Harry notices that even the babies have stopped their babbling. 

Louis and Harry glance over at each other at the same moment, and Harry might find it funny if he wasn't currently too busy worrying about his mum clobbering him with the salad tongs. 

Louis waits a second, as if he's holding out to see if Harry will be the one that word vomits the news. Harry doesn't though, so he watches Louis' chest rise as he takes an inhaled breath.

"I bet I know what this is," Anne chuckles, smiling broadly.

Harry laughs nervously. "I'm not sure you do," he mumbles.

"I think Harry might be about to spew," he hears Fizzy whisper to Lottie.

Louis shoots one last nervous glance over to Harry. It feels like diving off a cliff, knowing that the water's going to sting on impact.

"Harry and I got married."

There's a moment of complete, stunned silence. The only thing Harry hears is the sound of his own breath. 

Phoebe's fork clattering to the plate is what seems to break the moment.

Then comes the uproar. The girls seem to think it's all one giant practical joke.

"Shut it!" Jay shouts, wine glass gripped tight. The girls quickly fall quiet.

"Are you being serious right now?" Anne asks, leaning forward like she doesn't quite believe it. Her eyes scan their hands, searching for rings.

"Very serious," Louis says, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. "Here are some photos."

He unlocks the phone and calls up the video of the ceremony. Harry swallows the lump in their throat. He knew the first step would be to convince their families that they were being serious. Now the problem is dealing with their disappointment for not having a big wedding.

Harry had always pictured his mum at his wedding. He thought about how she'd glow at the mother-son dance. 

He'd get that for the second wedding, at least. He'd make sure of that. 

The eight of them huddled around Louis' phone as the video played. The voices sounded tinny over the video. Harry watched himself grin at everyone-- at the clerk, at Louis, at Zayn and the camera. He looks positively sick with happiness in the video, a real fool in love. He's quite a good actor.

"This is the part where we kiss," Louis warns Phoebe and Daisy, whose noses wrinkle up in disgust. They're still in the phase where they don't like to see kissing-- much less their brother kissing someone else.

Harry watches himself kiss Louis on the small screen. He notices the way he pulls him in by the neck, and he flushes in embarrassment knowing his mum is right behind him, watching the same thing. The kiss is chaste, sure, but all the same, Harry finds himself embarrassed.

He hears Jay let out a meep at the scene, like she hadn't been entirely convinced they were telling the truth. 

"Don't kill us, please," his own voice from the recording says. Harry takes a breath before swivelling in his chair to see how their families are reacting. When Louis does the same, their knees knock together.

His mum's hand hovers at her mouth, trembling slightly. She's smiling, but Harry can clearly see the tears brimming in her eyes. His own eyes start to burn, and he feels the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose to stop it from furthering. He really, really doesn't want to cry right now-- especially not in front of everyone. 

"Mum?" he croaks, breaking his silence for the first time. She gives him a watery smile and tugs him out of his seat for a hug, gripping onto his back. For a moment, he doesn't care that there's an audience, just shrinks himself down and clings back to her like he's twelve again. When he lets go, Fizzy jumps into his arms, causing him to laugh and lighten the mood. When he looks over at Louis, his mum is whacking him repeatedly on the arm, both of them with wide grins plastered over their faces. Jay pushes Louis aside to go and hug Anne. They both let out this long string of cooing noises that may or may not form words, but Harry can't decipher them. He's got an arm full of twins next, screeching and suffocating him, and when he locks eyes with Louis, Robin has Louis practically in a headlock. 

Louis winks at him, and Harry finds the worst of his anxiety lifting, leading to a broad grin overtaking his face, splitting it apart. 

"I need more wine!" Anne announces, refilling her glass, letting it splash up further than normal. 

They settle back into their seats again, returning back to their meals. The lamb's gone stone cold by now, the mash all congealed, but it still tastes amazing to Harry. He actually lets himself enjoy it now.

"When did this even happen?" Jay asks before taking another sip, the red staining her lips.

Harry and Louis look at each other, smirks mirroring each other. They have this part down. There was quite a bit of rehearsing of late.

"Well, the wedding was a couple of days ago," Harry says slowly. "And I'm really sorry we sort of sprung it on you. Just that we felt so strongly about it. Like, we worried if we told you, you'd try and tell us to wait or not rush into it or something. We just wanted to be married to each other-- we didn't care about a big wedding or anything."

Lottie looks doubtful for a moment, like she knows how marriage and baby obsessed each of them is. Harry chooses to ignore it.

"I think the last few months had us look at each other in a different light," Louis says, easing into their speech. "I think just realising I was going to be leaving kind of made me wake up and notice that I had been taking Harry for granted. Like I always assumed he'd be there, but while I was gone, he could go and marry someone else."

Anne and Jay look positively smitten.

"Yeah," Harry echoes ineffectively. "I think I just realised I didn't want to spend my time with anyone else but him. Took long enough, but yeah." He reaches over and squeezes Louis' hand for effect.

The questions don't let up after that, starting off with the expected, "Who proposed?"

Their proposal story isn't that far from the truth, really. They say that Louis had stayed up all night thinking about Harry, and their future together. They mention that they had spent the evening with friends, one of whom had recently proposed to his girlfriend, and Louis hadn't been able to sleep because his own thoughts were whirling. They stick to the proposal in bed, and when Anne comments on the lack of a ring, Louis pats his chest carefully where Harry's necklace sits.

Post pudding, all the children (including Harry and Louis) clutch their stomachs and flop around on the sofas in the living room while the parents gossip. Harry had thought that getting married might earn them a spot in the 'adult' room, but apparently he's still considered a child.

"It's weird," Fizzy comments, eyeing him and Louis.

"It's not that weird," Harry defends.

"No, not that," Fizzy sighs, rolling her eyes. "It's just like... you're the same. I kind of thought when you finally got together, you'd be slobbering all over each other and acting insufferable. You're just kind of like how you always were."

Louis stiffens slightly next to him. They should have known that the girls were incredibly perceptive. 

"It's because we've always been in love, idiot," Louis says smoothly.

"Gross," Fizzy responds, pulling out her phone and disengaging from the conversation. 

Harry slips off the sofa and out through the back doors, settling down on the steps that lead to the back garden.

He chews on his cuticle for a bit. The worst of it is over, he reminds himself. Just telling their families was enough.

He doesn't look back when he hears the door open, assuming it's Louis who followed him. He's surprised when the flowery smell of Jay's perfume hits him, just as she settles in next to him.

Harry looks down at his shoes and waits for what she has to say.

"I guess it's a little late to be asking your intentions, isn't it?" she says off-hand.

Harry barks out a laugh. "A bit, yeah. A decade on."

"Honestly," she sighs. "I've never met a bigger pair of fools than the two of you."

Harry grins and shrugs. She's not wrong. 

"I haven't felt this many emotions since I had the twins," she continues.

Harry looks over at her, letting her have the space to speak.

"I could throttle you both for pulling this out so secretly. I'll have you know your mum will not stand to let this happen without some kind of celebration or party. You owe her a wedding," she says.

Harry cracks a smile. "I know. As long as it's not a big deal, I think. And I guess it'd have to work around Louis’ schedule, and wherever we end up stationed."

Jay nods in agreement. "I have to tell you, though. I'm actually incredibly relieved to hear this. Not only because I've wanted you as a son since the first time you had tea with us. Louis leaving is the most frightening thing I can think of. Even when he's not deployed. Just knowing he's out there... sometimes I can't even think about it. But just knowing he'll have you, and that we have you, and you both can take care of each other. That brings some peace to my mind."

Harry breathes out, willing himself not to cry again. He really didn't see himself having this much of a freakout over tonight's events. Turns out he wants his family's approval more than he originally thought. Then again, he only agreed to this whole charade to prevent disappointing his mum to begin with. 

"I'm not going to hurt him," Harry says quietly. 

"That was never even a thought in my mind, sweetie," Jay says, reaching out and pulling Harry into a hug.

He feels her hand push a bit of his hair back, comforting and maternal. 

"I'll even give you a honeymoon period before I start bothering you about giving me grandbabies."

Harry laughs again, gripping the step behind him. "Jay, we're still too young for that part."

"Funny," Jay muses, "Wasn't a problem for your mum or me."

Harry rolls his eyes fondly. He's only heard nasty stories about people's in-laws. That's the whole stereotype, right? That in-laws act nasty and controlling, and never think anyone is good enough for their precious child.

Even if it is just a marriage of convenience, Harry feels fairly fortunate that he got an in-law like Jay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things start to get messy...
> 
> As always, thanks to Daisy, T, and Sarah for their help. 
> 
> I'm really happy with the feedback so far! I know WIPs are tricky, but trust that there's quite a bit of development left for them here. ;)

Harry digs his toes into the carpet in Louis' bedroom, holding the list in his hands. He feels the urge to squeeze the paper tightly in his fist, crumpling it up. Instead he flexes his fingers and reads through the items in a calm, collected voice.

"Cufflinks," Harry says, voice dubious. 

When Louis spins towards his dresser, pulling open the top drawer, Harry barks out a laugh. "You can't have cufflinks," he argues. "I never see you in a suit. Not one that's not your OTC kit anyway."

Louis grins at him but doesn't offer a rebuttal, just placing a small box with cufflinks inside in his combat boots. His bags are filling up fast. Harry hadn't expected Louis to need so much stuff, but apparently when you're a cadet, you need a lot more random items. Like cufflinks. 

Harry still didn't quite make the connection on how cufflinks meant you were fit to run a platoon, but he didn't get this stuff too much to begin with. 

"Night wear and flip flops," he continues. "Does this mean you're going to stop sleeping in the nude?"

"I don't always sleep in the nude," Louis points out. He eyes the open door and lowers his voice. "Whenever you stay over I keep my pants on, because unlike you, I have manners."

"Swimming shorts," Harry laughs, bowling over Louis' rant. Harry is never ashamed of his nudity. "Speedo style, now that's what I'm talking about." Harry does a low whistle, until he gets hit in the face with the swimming shorts that Louis flings at him. Harry chuckles again and gently throws it into the duffle. Louis shoots him a look, picks the trunks up, and folds them neatly.

Harry leans forward and peers out the entry of Louis' bedroom, just to make sure there aren't any little ears eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Looks like the flat is a go," Harry says slowly. 

"Ace," Louis agrees. "I'm sad I won't get to move you." Louis pouts. 

"It's literally right down the road. It's the dumbest thing ever."

"But it's cheaper than Bristol, innit?" Louis says. It feels like they've had this conversation a dozen times in the last week. With Louis going away for Officer Training for so long, it would be impossible for Harry to live with his family. First, the earlier mentioned reasons with Anne and Robin looking to downsize, and Gemma about to birth an actual human child into the world. Second, he would go crazy surrounded by these people for too long. They are his family and he loves them, but still, there is too much of a good thing. The Deakin-Tomlinsons would have happily welcomed him in as well, but no matter how many times Louis pushed, Harry still felt like that'd be crossing a line. 

Eventually they had agreed on a flat in town, so he could at least be around to help Gemma and his parents, and be available to help Jay and Dan with the kiddos, but at least he could go home to a quiet flat. And besides, without Louis there to entertain him every day, it'd be nice to have the families there as a distraction. 

It’s a decent plan, if a bit stupid.

"Yeah, Mrs. Farnworth owns the building, and when I mentioned that it'd take a couple of weeks before my husband's paycheques started coming through, you should have seen her face. And when she found out it was you, oh man," Harry laughs, slapping his knee as he remembers the blood draining from her face. They had driven her wild back when she was headmistress of their college.

"And she still agreed to rent it out to you?" Louis laughs.

"To us," Harry corrects. "She knows it's probably just a ten-month situation while you're at training. I just wish you weren't so far," he whines.

"Oh that reminds me," Louis says, leaping up. He grabs a manila envelope where it's perching dangerously on the bookshelf. He leafs through its contents, muttering to himself. "Okay, just double-checking that our marriage certificate is in here."

"Let me see that again," Harry says, making grabby hands at the envelope.

"You're a child." Louis pulls the certificate out anyway. Harry beams at the piece of paper.

Harry hands it over, smiling as Louis tucks it safely back into the envelope. "Alright, just wanted to get one last look at it."

"If I can get through this, and then when I get my own platoon, we can get MQ," Louis reminds him.

"English, please." 

Louis smirks. At this point, Harry knows a lot of military jargon, even just from sitting with his OTC friends at uni.

"Married quarters," Louis says slowly. Harry winks.

Harry sits back up and rests his back against the wall. "You know, being married to you so far isn't that difficult."

They both chuckle quietly because it's true. Before all this, they did the same things. Hung out together, played games or drank or hypothesised on the most random shite. They took the mick out of each other for the tiniest things, and then never let the other live it down. Apart from the bit where both their families think they're shagging, and except for that one kiss, nothing has changed. 

Well, that and the joint bank account. That's also new. 

\---

"Are you sure you don't want us to go down there with you?" Jay asks for the fifteenth time. There's a whole crowd of people hovering around Louis, his sisters practically glued to his side. Harry watches this from the back of the crowd, letting them all have their moment with him. Right now, Harry's not sure what to do or what's expected of him.

Harry swallows down the lump in his throat while his hands shake a little involuntarily.

He's not sure how he exists without Louis, and that's scary. It's a thought that's been just sitting, dwelling in the back of his mind for months. Maybe even since the moment that Louis turned to him and told him he was applying to be an Officer. Not even just a combat soldier, but a full-blown Officer.

In a couple of hours, once he made it down to the training centre, he'd be a Cadet. 

Harry takes a deep breath and holds it. He feels a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he turns to see Gemma rubbing his back with her manicured hands. 

"I didn't realise women as pregnant as you could move around," Harry teases. Gemma doesn't respond well to that one. She swats at his head, causing Harry to jerk away.

"Can't let my own brother-in-law leave without saying goodbye, can I?" she asks, eyes twinkling. She had been furious she had missed the dinner in which Harry and Louis 'came clean,' so really, it shouldn't be a surprise at all that she's here. 

Harry shivers again, even with the brief reprieve from the rain. Everything in this village has him and Louis stamped all over it. There’s the park near Harry's house that they always met up at, the spot under the slide where they spent their teen years hiding. Harry remembers the night they curled up under there, shivering with the fear of being caught, clutching the bottle of Limoncello Louis had nicked from his mum. There was the local creperie they had essentially kept in business all through their adolescence. They had tried practically everything on the menu, insisting the line cooks come up with more bizarre combinations for them. Louis would miss their stupid Crepe Day this year. Even when they were in Bristol, they had found another place that would fulfill their tradition. 

Harry doesn’t realise it’s his turn until he shakes himself out of his thoughts to see his own mum repeatedly kissing Louis on the cheek. Louis, for his part, doesn't bother to fight it. His eyes crinkle up with laughter, and Harry smiles at the sight. But when everyone's attention pivots over to him, he suddenly remembers why. 

No matter how many times he's tried to tell himself to get over it, to stop making a big deal out of this, he can't help but hate that this is happening. He wants to celebrate Louis' success, really, but when it breaks them up for the next ten months, all it does is make him irritable. He tries not to even think about what'll happen after he becomes an officer. Those thoughts are strictly off limits.

"Avert the babies' eyes," Dan teases, as Harry launches himself forward to hug Louis. His fingers wrap into the fabric of Louis' dress shirt, pressing his fingertips into Louis' back. He closes his eyes, and for a moment, bends his head down to press temple against temple. He feels Louis' warm breath on his neck, and it feels like they're on the same page. Even though Louis' been a social butterfly in uni, no one has ever meant as much to him as Harry. At least Harry knows this. They've been practically brothers for their whole lives. Like Louis had said a couple of weeks ago-- there hasn't been a day where they haven't been able to depend on each other. It's not just Harry and Louis not being able to see each other, it's not being able to text or call or just sit in each other's company and watch telly. 

Harry's going to have to find some more friends, unless he expects to spend the next year sitting and waiting on Louis. He knows that's something he should do, but really, he hasn't had to make a friend in the last ten years, so he’s not really sure where to start.

His fingers drift from Louis' back to his collar, tracing the ridge of the chain under his shirt. It pleases Harry that Louis' still wearing the necklace-- it's about as close to a wedding ring as he'll get. Harry knows it's stupid and all, what with the two of them not really being in love, but he likes that it's a symbol of what he means to Louis. That he's the most important man in Louis' life. 

"Six weeks until I can call," Louis says again, "and fourteen weeks until I have term recess."

"No big deal," Harry says flippantly.

"For you maybe," Louis laughs lowly, reverberating against Harry's skin. "I don't know what I'll do without your constant affection."

"Me smothering you, you mean," Harry laughs, pulling back.

Louis smiles and shakes his head, refusing to let go.

"Alright," he says. "I'll phone soon. Call the Centre if something's wrong with the cheques. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."

They smirk at each other, knowing that the limits to Louis' actions don't exist. And then, to prove his own point, Louis leans in, pressing a firm kiss to Harry's lips. Harry's fingers feel the chain again, pressing it into the skin underneath, trying to leave an imprint. 

He feels the wind knocked out of him a little bit, surprised by his own reaction. His stomach clenches oddly, and for a moment he wants to open his eyes, see what his family thinks. They saw the wedding video, of course, and there was the other kiss in that, but still. It's weird, he thinks, to kiss someone after not kissing them for so long. For their families to think they're a couple when they're not. The strangeness of Louis' lips isn't lost on him, but he hopes that he doesn't look as jittery kissing Louis as he feels. It's all a bit... weird.

Louis pulls away giving him a quick wink. Harry's just thankful Gemma isn't wolf-whistling. 

"Love you," Harry says, mumbling down into his shoes. It's true, of course, and he'd say it even if they weren't surrounded by both of their families. How could it not be true? They've spent their whole lives growing up together, soaking in each other's laughs. He trusts that Louis will see the meaning there-- that even if they're not _in love_ , Harry loves Louis. It's the way it's always been. 

"Love you, too, Haz," he replies without a beat. The warmth there makes Harry smile. "Alright girls, one more hug," Louis says suddenly, turning to catch the younger girls in his arms. Harry's arm drops to the side, and he steps back.

"Are you sure you don't want us to come on the train?"

"No," Louis says firmly. "Best to just do it now. I'll see you in a few weeks."

Louis' dress shoes look so shined next to Harry's ratty Converse, and the girls' light-up trainers. It's hard to watch Louis walk away, duffle shouldered and walking with a mission. He looks like a proper adult, like he's important. 

Harry's untethered for sure, but he's also impossibly proud of his best mate. He also just wished he could live up to him, too.

Anne curls Harry into her side, and even though he's twenty-one years old, he doesn't argue as she leads him back from the station. 

\---

The first week hadn’t been so bad. Harry kept himself busy by taking long walks through the village and catching up with older folks. He popped 'round to the bakery to say hello, and it took approximately ten minutes for them to wrangle a green apron around his neck and hand him a broom. 

He had pretended Louis was on holiday. He thought about Louis stretched out on a Caribbean beach, sipping drinks and seducing boys. He avoided thoughts having to do with Louis standing for twelve hours, ironing his uniform beyond the point of perfection, and inhaling his food so fast he chokes.

Theoretically, he knows all of this stuff happens at Sandhurst. He knows that the cadets will get destroyed for even the tiniest bit of imperfection. He also knows that Louis can handle the pressure; it's just that they've always wanted to protect each other. Louis' always been better at it, though. 

He passes the time helping Gemma get the baby's room together, with last minute details. When he's not there, he's at the Tomlinsons' house, helping with the kids. He definitely doesn't spend his time compulsively googling Sandhurst to read about what the first six weeks of the commissionary course entail.

It's necessary, he convinces himself as he idly plucks at the strings on his guitar. Louis needs to know how to live like that if he's going to get deployed somewhere dangerous. He won’t be going to Afghanistan, but it'll no doubt be somewhere with some kind of conflict. Somewhere he would have to know how to survive on half an hour's sleep and have the physical ability to drag others through mud or sand or who knows what else. Always the skeptic though, Harry's still not clear on what the compulsory chapel service and the regulations regarding bedding have to do with that. 

Harry hears a cry over the monitor, so he sets the guitar aside to go check on the babies. He tries to move swiftly, hoping that if he can intercept the first one, the second one might not follow, but he has no such luck. By the time he gets to the room, both of the twins are squirming in their cribs, crying for attention.

He scoops them up-- one in each arm-- and settles into the rocking chair, trying to gently bounce them back to sleep. He loves babies, but he's much more useful once they can crawl or blink or talk. He's rubbish when all they do is cry and poop. He feels too much like them in those moments.

The anxiety of being an uncle for the first time weighs down on him the closer they get to Gemma's due date. It hits him, all at once, how he almost missed out on this. If he and Louis hadn't orchestrated this whole ordeal, he'd be in Bristol still, cocking about, ignoring the fact that his sister was about to become a mum. Someone's actual mum. 

When the babies cry themselves out, he places them back in a crib, this time together, and backs away slowly. Jay and Dan still have the girls out, a kind of bonding opportunity for the girls who're still trying to get used to the changing dynamic of their family. It's weird to think that Louis' not there, and that when they have 'family time,' Louis isn't included. It’s even weirder to think of it, because even when he and Louis were in Bristol, Louis wasn’t in ‘family time.’ The world keeps turning. 

Eventually, he ends up putting the twins in their pram, and taking them outside, going for a walk just to escape the house. It's no surprise he gets stopped every few feet, people cooing over the twins and interrogating Harry over his own life.

"Harry, dear!" crows Mary from across the way. She comes ambling over to where Harry has the pram, instantly leaning in and softly dragging a finger against the twins' cheeks. "They are so precious."

"Very true," Harry agrees. "How are you, Mary?"

Mary looks up at him with a grin. "Can't complain. Everything is the same when you're my age. But I've heard about all the developments in your life, recently! I hear congratulations are in order!"

Harry blushes, having forgotten how word spreads in their village.

"Oh, thanks," Harry says. He's not sure how much information to give. 

"I always knew it, I did. Always said that you two were sewed together instantly. And when you both moved away to university together, well, wasn't that just the sign? Living in a romantic movie, you both were."

"Still are," Harry replies, winking. If he's meant to play the part, he can at least have a little fun.

"Suppose so. And now he's off in the RAF?"

"Army," Harry corrects. "He's at Sandhurst right now training to be an officer."

"Well, I'll be damned. What straightened him out then? He used to be a little menace around these parts. You both were, come to think of it."

Harry grins, cheeky and crooked. "No, no, you must be thinking of those other two boys."

"Talked to both your mums enough to remember it was you two, but nice try, Harry. But really, now look at you. One's training to be an officer, and the other's all domestic and taking care of the babies. Getting ready to have your own? And how would you two go about it? Adoption?"

Harry clears his throat before pulling out his phone to check the time. "We're a bit young for that. Just got married. Still honeymooning, as it were, so no babies for a bit."

"And your sister's about to deliver!" Mary crows, clearly not picking up on Harry trying to edge away from the conversation.

"Yeah, any day now," he says. "Can't wait to meet the little bug."

"Oh, I bet Louis is sad he's missing that," she says. She's not wrong, of course. Louis loves babies-- loves having sisters, loves holding the twins, bought Gemma a stellar set of baby books and flannels as a gift. Harry already knows he's godfather, so technically, by legal nature of their marriage, Louis could technically be the baby's guardian, too. Bonkers.

"Yeah," Harry agrees, "but he's so busy with training, he's not thinking of much else, I'm sure. Won't even be able to talk to him for another few weeks."

Mary holds a hand to her chest. "You poor thing. Such a shame that your honeymoon period is taken away from you."

Harry fidgets nervously, trying to edge away from his conversation with Mary. She doesn't notice, however, him taking slight steps back, trying to look like he's very busy and off somewhere important. He hopes for a moment for the twins to start fussing, and he contemplates even faking a cry in order to escape the conversation. 

That's how all of the conversations in this town go, though. 

"Just about time for their lunches," Harry murmurs, nodding to the pram. A small, warm smile spreads across Mary's face, and Harry knows she's holding back a comment on Harry's paternal nature. 

He knows that the next few months, and probably the next few years, might hold many such insinuations.

He gives Mary a tight hug and lets her coo at the pram one last time before strolling back through the streets, thinking again about how odd their situation is. He had been so desperate, so unsure of where to turn, that Louis' marriage plan seemed brilliant. And even as they talked it out, five years seemed like nothing. Not when they're only 21. One week of talking about their relationship and being badgered about children has him thinking that this might be a very long arrangement after all.

It'll be better when they relocate, Harry reminds himself. In this town, everyone knows them, both of them. Everyone remembers them as awkward preteens, all flat greasy hair and crooked overbites. Everyone takes immense pleasure in letting out an 'I told you so' when they see Harry, telling him with great gusto memories of Harry and Louis being affectionate as teens. 

His stomach squirms at that, nervous laughter escaping him as they chuckle over a story Harry remembers very, very differently. He often wonders how Louis remembers that story, but he ends up pushing the thought aside. 

It also makes Harry want to point and laugh, pull the rug out from under them to let them know that the joke was on them. Not quite what Louis had in mind, though, so Harry just smiles and nods, acting sheepish. 

\---

It's only when Gemma goes into labour that Harry finally stops thinking about Louis' whereabouts. He misses him of course, none of their other college friends are kicking about, or if they are, they want nothing to do with him. 

Gem's water breaks in front of Harry, of course, a fact that will probably burn in his retinas for the rest of his life. Gemma was lain up on the sofa, swollen feet on the coffee table, with Harry sprawled out on the carpet, trying to ease his aching back. Gemma got up to mosey over to the loo, and as soon as she had stood, there it was. Liquid. Through Gem's leggings, down on the carpet, practically a metre from where Harry lay. 

"Oh, shit," Gemma sighed. 

Harry slowly drew his eyes away from the puddle. "Did you just piss yourself, or...," he trailed off. 

"Shut up and go get my bag," she said, cradling her massive stomach. Harry scrambled to her bedroom, grabbed the overnight duffle that she had stuffed, and trampled back to the living room. Gemma had her raincoat on and was texting away, calm as anything. Harry, on the other hand, felt like he might sweat his skin off. 

"Mitch'll meet us in hospital at the midwife unit. How exciting," she chirped. "Texting mum now."

Harry had been far more shaken up than his sister, and it’s only as he, his mum, and Robin sit in the waiting room that he turns to his mother, seemingly shell-shocked. "I never ever wanted to see her bodily fluids," Harry moans.

His mind shifts suddenly back to Louis. Shell-shocked. He shakes off the images of Louis in his fatigues, explosions around him. Louis isn't at that point, won't be for a while yet. Harry forces himself to stop worrying about things he can't control. 

He stares down at his shaky knees, and wipes his palms on them. 

Mitch peeks out, grin firmly attached like he's never seen it before.

"Tell us!" Anne pleads.

"Nan, do you want to come meet Fiona?"

The three of them cheer at that-- Harry had been dying for a niece. He has visions of a little girl with pigtails chasing around a football. He thinks about Fiona and Doris growing up to be best friends, sharing sleepovers and not-so-accidentally cutting each other's hair. 

Harry instantly decides Fiona is the cutest baby he's ever seen, though Ernest and Doris do come close. He snaps a dozen pictures of Fiona sleeping, of Gemma holding Fiona, of himself holding Fiona, and he adds it to the pile of pictures to send to Louis when he's done with his six weeks.

\---

Harry wishes he could act cool and say that he was so busy with Fiona and Gemma that he completely forgets about time passing. Of course, that'd be a big fat lie. He's so enamoured with his niece, no doubt about it, but there's not much he can do with her. She's so little that those first couple of weeks, he finds himself sneaking out of Gemma and Mitchell's place because he's so useless with the baby. All Fiona really cares about is sleeping and pooping and eating. Harry gets nervous changing the diapers, because Fiona is the littlest thing he's seen. And despite the nipple jokes everyone has had a chance to make, Harry can't produce milk, and thus, doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things. Often enough, he just feels like he gets in the way. Gemma's overtired eyes kind of slide right past him, while she mutters about how she can't manage to shut the child up. 

It's not the most fun environment he's been in.

He ends up with Ernie or Doris a lot of the time he's not at the bakery. Jay's back to work after her maternity leave, and while Lottie is supposed to be minding them, she claims that that cuts into her revising time. Harry laughs, but doesn't believe it for a second, but it's no bother to him since he loves playing with the babies. They're at least coming on the months where he can do things with them. 

He knows it's the sixth week, but he tries to ignore that fact. In the grand scheme of things, Louis should be calling his family-- his mum and sisters-- with his first opportunity to speak to someone outside the military.

But it's not his family that Louis calls, it's Harry. And Harry knows this because they're all together, having another one of their big rowdy dinners (minus Gemma, Mitch, and now Fiona) when Harry's phone starts buzzing insistently. 

He frowns, expecting it to be Marjorie at the bakery, asking him to come in tomorrow to open. He's set to refuse, pulling away from the crowd to separate himself to take the call and explain that they shouldn't get too attached to him since he'll only be around for a few months. 

His heart leaps into his throat, though, when he sees Louis calling from his mobile.

"Oh my god," he gasps, struggling to answer the call before it sends to voicemail. He's not sure how this all works-- if he missed the call, could he call back? Or was it like prison and you only had your one shot? He jams his finger on the answer button repeatedly, urging it to connect.

"Hi," he gushes.

"Hazza," Louis responds, voice clear and happy, as if he were just right next to him.

"Hi," Harry repeats again, feeling stupid. He's been thinking a lot these last few weeks, wishing that he had Louis making sarcastic comments to him about the various people in their town. Now that he has Louis on the line, though, none of it seems important. He's not sure where to start.

"How's it going? How are you? What's been happening?" Harry asks, words rushing out of him. He settles back on the sofa, hoping to get a few minutes with Louis before the others realise he's missing.

"Boggling," Louis sighs. "I've slept on the floor more than I've slept on the bed. There's, like, this massive fear of our beds not being perfect when it's time for room inspection, so most of us end up sleeping on the floor."

Harry guffaws at that, chewing on his fingernail. He lets Louis continue.

"And when something is out of place, like the toothbrush and the toothpaste are too far away from each other, it's like a massive crime."

"See, that's the part I never got," Harry interrupts. "Like, you're the biggest rule-breaker and button-pusher I know. Yet you let them boss you around about how much wrinkle can be on your blanket."

Louis laughs and Harry closes his eyes, picturing Louis on the other side of the line. He can see the shrug and the smirk, like he knows why and doesn't want to share it. Harry thinks about him down south, with his too-short hair and his firmly pressed uniform. It's both comforting and unnerving. 

"Are you making friends?" Harry asks, voice lilting like he's a mum asking after her child's first day of school. 

"Yes, yes. They don't hold a candle to you, oh light of my life." 

Harry laughs at Louis' dry voice.

"And how are they taking the whole 'married-to-a-bloke' thing?"

"Oh, you know. It is what it is. Nobody's an arse about it or anything. There are a few other guys around who've either hinted or outright mentioned their own sexualities or partners. Actually, there're fewer marrieds here than I was led to believe."

Harry cackles at that. "Oh, Zayn."

"Zayn's settled in fine, by the way, thanks for asking."

"Oh, stop. I'm too busy trying to get details out of you, but that doesn't mean I don't care about Zayn."

He can see Louis' face grinning on the other side of the line.

"You care about him now, huh? So all it takes to win you over is to bear witness to the greatest moment of your life?"

Leaning over and fixing his sock, Harry rolls his eyes. "I know you're not referencing me getting married to you as the greatest moment of my life, because that would be awfully egotistical, even for you. Besides, I distinctly remember a lack of Zayn at Fiona's birth, so that would be a big lie on your part."

There's a moment of silence on the other end while Louis processes.

"Who's Fiona? Wait. Harry, did Gemma--"

"Mmmhmm," he hums, grinning to himself as Louis gasped into the phone.

"Why the fuck are you letting me natter on about Zayn? Details, Styles. Immediately."

"Well, it's a girl, obviously. Fiona. She's gorgeous. She has this adorable little cupid's bow and Gemma's lips and eyes. Mitch's hair, like this little duck tuft sticking up. I'm obsessed with her, naturally."

"You need to send me pictures. All of them. As many pictures as you can send me."

"Oh, be careful what you wish for," Harry teases. "My camera roll these days is basically just Fiona, Ernie, and Doris in various cute clothing. Like, that is my life these days."

"Just for a few more months, though. Then we'll move and you'll find, like, actual friends. Not babies. But how are my little cherubs doing?"

"They're doing great. Can't walk about town with them without getting accosted. 'Oh, Harry, when are you and Louis going to adopt?'" His impersonation of one of the old ladies falls flat, but Louis doesn't mention it.

He gasps with laughter. "Are they seriously saying that?"

"You have no idea. People practically held a parade at the news that we got married. It's insane. Everywhere I go, people are always asking about it."

"Such high hopes from the townfolk," Louis mutters. 

"You just wait."

"No, this is all a part of my dastardly plan. I make you take all the fall for this, and then when I come back, everyone will be well bored of us. Some other small town scandal will have happened and no one will care that we got married."

The divorce on the other hand, Harry thinks to himself. That'll be another news story.

"The girls are here, do you want to talk to them?" Harry asks.

"Oh, really?" Louis' voice goes all soft when he talks about them. It's always endearing.

Harry pads back into the kitchen where everyone sits, the girls shovelling forkfuls of pasta into their mouths. Anne passes around the bottle of white, filling up glasses, and Harry stands back for a moment, phone in hand, observing. 

"You should see this scene right now," he mutters into the phone, unsure of whether or not Louis will hear him through the hustle and bustle.

"Why are you standing there like that?" Fizzy asks, skeptically eyeing him. She still hasn't exited her sardonic stage, a fact which Harry and Louis both hope never changes. They both find her hilarious like this.

Harry holds up the phone like it should explain. Fizzy squints her eyes to make out the name displayed, and when she sees that it's Louis her eyes blow up wide, and she drops her fork with a loud clatter.

"Give me!" she screeches, launching herself at Harry. He laughs loudly, and lets the phone go willingly. With all the commotion Fizzy causes, the rest of the noise halts suddenly. Harry looks over at his mum staring at him, to which he grins and winks.

"Louis!" Fizzy cheers over the line, causing everyone else in the room to shout and make a break for the phone.

Harry gets pushed aside, of course, lost in the shuffle of people trying to get close to his phone.

"Speaker phone!" shouts Lottie, and it's only a matter of seconds before Louis' voice rings out around the group. Everyone hushes to try and hear him.

"Oh, that's odd. Hi everyone," he says.

Harry smiles from the back of the group. He feels a surge of warmth in his chest, like spending a holiday with everyone he loves. He's spent the last month and a half wondering how Louis was doing, but not mentioning it to everyone else. It almost surprises him that everyone else missed him just has much. It always astounds him to realise how many people love Louis Tomlinson. He wins everyone over with his humour, his loyal nature, his unwillingness to deal with bullshit. Harry sometimes thinks if the roles were reversed, if he were the one off for months with no phones, people might not care as much.

"Who's there?" Louis asks, voice tinny over the line. "I miss you all so much."

Jay speaks up. "It's Dan and me, the girls, the babies, Anne, Robin, and Harry, love."

"The new mum couldn't make it?" Louis teases.

"She's off cleaning up sick, I'm sure," Anne chips in.

Louis laughs. "I'll have to send her a text ASAP. I can't wait to see this gorgeous thing. I sound like such a sop. I'll stop."

"Have they been feeding you?" Jay asks, leaning closer to the phone. Fizzy rolls her eyes, and Harry sends her a wink. 

Louis' quiet over the line, but eventually responds, "They don't starve us, mum."

"I know, but I read things about this programme and I worry. Mums worry, Louis."

Harry cradles his glass of wine in his hands, watching the people he cares about talk to the other person he cares about. 

He wishes more than anything that he could talk to Louis for real. There was the Harry and Louis that existed in front of their families-- the ones that took care of their families and played board games with their mums. Then there was the Harry and Louis that existed separate from that-- the ones that got completely sloshed at uni parties, or ate disgusting foods, or farted incessantly in what was all things considered, a small room. They were real with each other in ways they couldn't be in front of their families, and it bothered Harry that he couldn't nudge the truth out of Louis for once. They always were able to needle information out of each other. 

If Louis were at least here, they could hide away and Harry could find out what was really happening at Sandhurst. He had suspicions, at least, but he didn't know how valid they were. He knew that Louis would probably be given absurd amounts of time to eat, with an attendant literally taking food away from him if he wasn't finished. He knew that it probably was worse than the shit they used to cook themselves in uni, before they just gave in and ate cereal, and before Harry learned the art of the stir fry. 

"I know it's in the job description, but don't worry, mum. It's just all a bunch of drills and whatnot. Strategy and stuff comes next term. This is just to weed out the weak."

Harry hears some truth in Louis' voice, but at the same time, he's not so easily fooled. He knows that 'a bunch of drills' could mean anything, and he suspects Louis acts flippant just for the girls. 

Everyone chats longer and coos over Louis, and only when they disconnect the phone as Louis says goodbye to the group does jealousy kick in Harry's chest. Sure, he had had that time to talk to Louis one-on-one before he brought the phone to everyone else, but still. He's supposed to be Louis' husband. He should have a little more alone time to say goodbye.

So Harry spends the rest of dinner in a huff, despite having heard Louis' voice for the first time in a month. His mum shoots him looks out of the corner of her eye, but Harry ignores it and drinks more wine, removing himself from conversations.

When he thinks he's moped enough, he excuses himself from the get-together. No one mentions how early it is-- neither Jay nor Dan had left to take the twins home yet. He quickly moves through hugs and kisses goodbye, and even then he barely remembers to grab his umbrella from the doorway before heading back out into the summer rain. He walks back alone, letting his phone burn in his pocket and his guilt simmer in his chest. 

When he gets back to his flat, he moves past the still unpacked boxes and flops face-first down onto the mattress. It's the one from Louis' flat, Louis' sheets, Louis' pillow. It occurs to Harry that he's living Louis' life, just without him around. Louis’ cheques pay for the flat. His furniture is haphazardly placed around the space. 

Harry sits up just long enough to tug off his boots. He pulls out his phone and looks at the photos of all the babies saved. He chooses a few cute ones of Fiona and sends them to Louis, before going back and finding some of the twins and forwarding those along too. 

The texts go unanswered, of course, since Louis' probably off doing pushups or working on his fatigue makeup skills.

Harry opens his sluggish laptop and calls up Netflix, browsing until he finds a movie to help him forget about the heaviness in his heart. 

\---

"How does twice a week sound?" Louis chirps as soon as Harry answers.

Harry groans from the bed, because it's 7:30 AM and the Army has turned Louis into a morning person.

"What?" he groans into the phone.

"Twice a week for phone calls? Is that okay with you?" Louis clarifies.

Harry clears his throat, trying to shake his morning voice. He scratches at his bare chest. 

"Of course," Harry says. "Tell me what's new with you."

Harry cradles the phone to his ear while he moves to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He slurps loudly while Louis goes on about the people he lives with, and their annoying quirks.

"None of them are near you now, are they?"

Louis sighs. "Of course not. I'm hiding away so I can talk to you."

"I don't think it's wise to get into fights with people who know a fair bit about weaponry," Harry reasons, "but I'll accept the compliment."

"Thanks, next time I call I'll make sure I'm in a good wifi spot. I want to facetime with you."

Harry smiles to himself. "Yes, definitely," he agrees. "I want to see how all of this training has changed your muscles. If you've finally got fit or not."

"You cheeky thing," Louis cackles. "I'd go with 'or not,' except there's another cadet who seems to be a bit fixated, if you know what I mean."

"Wait, what?" Harry asks, putting his mug down on the counter.

"Oh, just a cadet trying to get a bit fresh. That's all."

Harry swallows down his discomfort and hopes his voice sounds more friendly than it feels. "Is he fit? Are you going to go for it?"

Louis hums and laughs at the same time. "No, no, no. I mean, for like several reasons. First, everyone here knows I'm married. Like, anyone who's trying to ignore that is kind of creepy. Second, inter-cadet relationships are a huge no-no here. Grounds for expulsion type no-no." Louis' voice sounds light, unbothered, like they're just having a normal everyday chat.

For some reason, and Harry can't quite figure out why, he feels a bit shaken.

Harry knows how popular Louis is. They've been friends long enough to see other friends come and go, to see girlfriends and then boyfriends come and go. It's not that Harry's worried about someone replacing him as a friend, but he does feel uncomfortable with the idea of someone trying to seduce Louis now that they're married. 

They had agreed that they could shag other people. Harry had been the one to bring that up, for crying out loud. He doesn't know why he's being such a baby about all of this.

"So you're just going to be celibate for the next few months?" Harry ventures. It hasn't actually been at the forefront of his mind, what with the excitement of the baby and all, but at some point they're going to have to address the fact. There's no way that either of them are going five years without a shag. 

"Yeah, of course. More important things to focus on. Besides I'm not keen on getting booted from training. Then we'd both be fucked."

Harry considers this. "Okay," he starts, "but if you're not going to shag anyone when you're on base, and you're not going to shag anyone when you're away, when are you going to get any? You just going to spend the next five years beating off?"

Louis cackles. "I'm not worried. Blue balls haven't set in yet. You, on the other hand, seem positively tortured. What's going on? Someone you want to shag back home?"

"No," he argues, hoping it doesn't sound defensive. "Speaking of, I was at the bakery and Gareth Cunningham popped in. I know he's only 21, but he has not aged well."

Louis crows loudly. "You fancied him so much in sixth form!"

"Check your sources-- I did not," he argues.

"You practically followed him around. I saved you from making an arse of yourself several times."

Harry sits in silence for a moment, chewing over the memories. Louis is actually entirely correct, but he doesn't want to give in.

Breaking the silence, Louis continues. "Don't shag him, though. That village is too small."

Harry hums his agreement. "News would spread of my affair almost immediately."

"You slag."

"Stop," Harry whines, drawing the word out petulantly. 

"I miss you, Hazza. Can see your big dumb face pouting now."

Harry grins down into his mug, still cradling the phone. 

"Miss you, too. This flat is so weird. Like I'm living someone else's life."

Louis gets oddly serious on the other end.

He takes a breath like he's steeling himself for something important. "It's worth it, though, right? What we're doing?"

Harry looks at the bare walls and wishes Louis could be here, sharing the space with him. It'd be so much homier, livelier. It'd be worth settling if they were flatmates.

"Yeah, of course. Even just those first couple of cheques were worth it. No creepy flatmates or bedbugs or anything."

"Okay, good," Louis says, voice lighter. "I was hoping that you weren't regretting it. It's been good for me, too. Just knowing you're okay and safe and with people. I feel less like I've abandoned you."

"Oh shut it," Harry says. "You haven't abandoned me. You're coming back in a couple weeks. And even then, living your life and having a career outside of your best mate doesn't quite count as abandoning. I'm pretty sure 'marry-said-best-mate-so-he-can-afford-food-and-rent' goes above and beyond the call of duty."

Louis hums, so Harry drawls on. It's not often that Louis lets him have this airspace without taking the mick. 

"Besides, I'm the one living the cushy life here. You're running on little sleep, little food, dragging yourself through shit. I'm living on my husband's cheques and playing with babies, occasionally helping out at the local bakery. I don't feel sorry for myself."

"Okay, so neither of us regret it," Louis says.

"Two months in, honeymoon's not over yet."

Louis chuckles, which then morphs into a stifled yawn. "Okay, Haz, I'm going to get ready for the rest of the day. Thanks for chatting even though it's early."

"Of course," Harry murmurs.

"I love you. Give the babies kisses from me."

"Love you, too," he responds automatically.

The line beeps with the disconnected call, and Harry just stares down at his phone for a moment. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved Louis-- there's only so many times you can drag someone from their own filth without love being involved. But the way it had rolled off his tongue, flowing seamlessly into mentioning the babies, just seemed... odd. Harry knows Louis had been alone; he hadn't minded mentioning their arrangement. So it wasn't that Louis was trying to keep up appearances, but it had sounded so awfully domestic.

Harry shakes his head and puts his phone down. He abandons his half-full mug in the sink and traipses back to bed, enveloping himself in the duvet and ignoring everything altogether.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I hit a slump with chapter 9, but I've blown past it. 
> 
> As always, thanks to my betas for looking over this and making fabulous suggestions. I really really appreciate them.

It's a miracle that Louis actually trusts Harry with his precious car, but he also trusts him with his bank account, so there's that. 

During Harry's drive down to Sandhurst, he rehearses what he’s going to say to Louis about ten times. He'll say that they've been prize idiots, that this was their worst idea yet, that there's no reason for them to be doing this.

Friends lend each other money all the time, he tells himself. They should just write this off as Louis lending Harry some money, and call off everything. It might not be too late to get their marriage annulled, and he's sure Louis could craft some story to tell their families that would explain everything. 

Part of the reason Harry had agreed to this was because he was preventing himself from moving home. What he hadn't fully realised, of course, was that was exactly what had happened. Though he wasn't in his childhood bedroom, or camping out on Gemma's sofa, he was still in the village, still sweeping the bakery floors. 

The only difference was that his mum looked at him with soft, fond eyes, and his cell phone stopped buzzing with calls and emails from bill collectors looking for him.

And while he hadn't fully dug himself out of debt yet, he was being more responsible.

The cash from the bakery went to groceries, primarily just for him, but also snacks for the girls. The cheques from the Army went into their bank account every other week. Harry made sure the rent was taken out first, then utilities, the cable and internet bills. Then, for the second half of the month, Harry would pay Louis' student loans, his own student loans (that one hurt the most), and then after all of that, whatever was left went to Harry's disastrous credit card bill.

The good news was that the vultures had stopped circling him for money. The bad news was that he felt dirty for taking Louis', even though he had come up with the idea in the first place.

"Shit, shit, shit," Harry mutters, staring out the dirty window as he cruises down the M40. He has to piss-- again-- even though he had already stopped past Birmingham. His bladder isn't made of steel. 

He left early this morning, not wanting to be late. But the two stops will cost him, and he'll be lucky if he arrives before everyone's bolted for their break.

He's positively thrumming to see Louis, especially in his dress clothes, all pressed and neat looking. Harry has no doubt once they get back Louis will turn back into a slob, possibly refusing to change his clothes until he has to go back to Sandhurst.

First, Harry has to actually make it to Sandhurst to pick the bastard up.

When Harry had facetimed with him a week ago, he asked if Louis was going to take the train, or a coach, or if he wanted Harry to come get him with the car. Louis sighed and said the train would be fine, but the wistful sound of his voice said enough. Harry waited a few beats before sighing himself, saying that he'd be there by three. Louis grinned, more of a smirk really, and Harry knew he had been duped.

Harry feels vaguely nervous going through Surrey, and the anxiety grows as he gets closer to the Academy. He idles through each check point, showing his identification, and he feels intimidated. He hasn't done anything wrong, he tells himself, but even then, he knows that's not entirely true. But it's more of a trying-not-to-ruin-my-credit-score and less of a threatening-national-security type of wrong.

Once he parks and stretches his legs out, his feet crunch on the ground below him. Starting his trek towards the main grounds, he holds his phone tightly in his fist and feels his face grin involuntarily. The nerves he felt earlier are still there, still rising and beating up against each other, but it's more exciting now. More anticipatory. He wants to steal Louis from this place and get him back in the car-- their car-- and shuffle him back to their flat.

Louis won't have his phone on him, but Harry still thinks about calling him. He's not sure how else he's supposed to find him when there are hundreds of other cadets who look just like him wandering about. He follows the signs to walk toward the main building, the long and classic white one that's always on the telly. People pass by with the families and friends, grinning away, like families picking their loved ones up at Heathrow. 

He gazes across at the white building, tall and long and majestic, and the lawn, so green and plush, with hundreds of green and brown bodies stomping around, mixed with parents and partners and children come to pick up their cadets for break. Harry has no idea how he's supposed to find Louis in this mass of people.

He needn't worry, though, since he's tackled almost as soon as he stands still by a very eager Louis Tomlinson.

Harry squeals in surprise-- not his proudest moment-- but grins as soon as he realises who it is.

"Ah!" he shouts, steadying his own legs and gripping Louis close, taking in the warmth of his body.

"Hi Hazza," Louis muffles into Harry's skin, in the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. Harry worries about knocking Louis' fancy little beret thing off.

"You smell surprisingly alright," Harry says, the words just falling out as Louis pulls away, giving him a quick glance. Before Harry even realises it, Louis swoops in for a kiss-- a big one at that-- pulling him in at the lower back, arching him backwards just so. Harry breathes in through his nostrils, his lips a bit busy, before Louis pulls back and gives him a wink.

Harry lets out that breath a bit shaky, laughing. He's a bit taken aback by it really, until he realises that right, there are a lot of people around them. People who think Louis has a husband. Spouses kiss each other hello. 

"Well, hello Cadet Tomlinson," he says, reaching out and poking the label on his uniform.

"I'm so glad you're here," Louis says, wrapping him up in another hug, "but we need to leave immediately because I want every moment I can away from here and also, food."

"What do you feel like?" Harry asks. 

"There's an alright pub nearby that Zayn suggested," Louis responds, gesturing vaguely behind him. Harry follows the gesture to see Zayn standing a few yards back, awkwardly watching their reunion. 

Harry laughs and pushes Louis away to go say hi to Zayn, wrapping him up in a hug. Truth be told, when it comes to Zayn, absence has made the heart grow fonder. Acting as a witness for an illegitimate wedding does tend to make a friendship. 

His hug with Zayn is significantly more laddish, of course, complete with a double-tap on the back and a cough. Zayn, thankfully, doesn't go in for a snog.

"Haz, I don't think you've met my fiancee, Perrie," Zayn says, gesturing to the pretty girl beside him. She looks too cool to be here, decked out in cigarette style jeans and a peplum top, hair dyed and braided. Her platform heels dig into the grass in the Sandhurst lawn.

"Leaving now," Louis says, dragging Harry by the hand before Harry even gets out a 'hello', and back to the car park. “See you two there,” he shouts over his shoulder.

Louis directs him to a pub in Surrey, not too far, where Harry snags a spot on the street and parks easily.

"You are getting better at driving, aren't you?" Louis laughs as they climb out of the car and head into the pub.

Harry's not hungry, but he and Perrie decide to split an order of chips, while Zayn and Louis opt for burgers, thick and running with juice and grease. The boys both inhale them, Harry and Perrie just looking on strangely, like they're watching an odd natural phenomenon.

Their eyes meet and they smile, sharing their strange affection for their two partners.

"Rude of you to run away from Bristol, Harry," she says, teasing. "It would have been nice to have a friend there who got the whole thing, military spouse stuff."

Harry nods, twirling a chip between his fingers. "I know. Part of me thinks I should have stayed until Louis was relocated, but then again, my sister just had a baby, and I didn't really have much going for me in Bristol."

Louis smirks and shoots a glance over at him-- Harry feels it-- but otherwise doesn't say anything and focuses on his burger.

"Are you still breathing, love?" Perrie asks, nudging Zayn playfully. "Can you even taste that?"

Zayn swallows his bite and makes a show of setting the burger down, turning to Perrie and taking a big inhale and exhale. Perrie giggles and leans over to peck him in the lips, a sight so cute and domestic, it warms Harry’s heart. For a moment, he does wish he had gotten to know Zayn more when they were in Bristol.

"What's it like being married?" Perrie asks, once Zayn's attention has firmly gone back to the burger.

Harry laughs and shrugs, laughing harder at Louis choking on his burger.

"I don't know, do you?" he asks Louis. Louis shakes his head, trying not to choke again. Harry turns back to Perrie. "We haven't done much living together since we got married. I bet you and Zayn have it more together than us."

Perrie waves him off and steals another chip.

"When is the wedding?" he asks.

"April," she reports. "Right after commissioning course is over, and before we get moved somewhere. Planning's a bit rough, but with this one home for the next two weeks, I've got a few things in mind that we need to do."

Zayn's eyes widen, looking to Louis for support.

Louis shrugs. "Don't know what to tell you, mate. I hear court ceremonies are alright," he adds with a wink.

Harry cackles, jabbing a finger at Zayn. "And here you were thinking you were on holiday!"

Zayn swallows another bite, and smiles at Perrie, warming. It's clear that they care about each other, that they're In Love, that they're perfect for each other. 

"Whatever the missus wants, the missus gets," he says.

Louis peeks over at him, face hidden behind the mess of meat and bread. They haven't been together in three months but it feels like no time at all, instantly back in each others' orbits and reading each other's minds. Louis quirks his eyebrow, and Harry rolls his eyes. He understands what Louis is trying to say, but there is no way that Harry is the missus in this scenario.

\---

Louis weasels the car keys away from Harry the second they leave the pub. Harry doesn't fight, not really, since the registration was originally under Louis' name and all. 

Unsurprisingly, Louis gets them back to Holmes Chapel even faster than Harry would have. It's still quite the drive, but Louis' disregard for the speed limits clocks them in at under three hours. 

"Go to your mum's first," Harry mutters, nodding off in the passenger side, even though the sun hasn't fully set and it's too early for sleep. Travel's always knocked him out, though, and the comfort of Louis to his right, driving, is enough for him to drift off.

"Don't fall asleep. We're here," Louis says, reaching over and shaking Harry gently.

Harry grunts out a response but then uncurls himself from the car, doing a few star jumps to stretch out. 

"Louis!" cry the girls as the front door springs open, a mess of blonde hair flying down the path at him.

Harry and Jay usher everyone inside, Harry even offering a piggyback ride to Daisy so she doesn't step on anything with her bare feet. 

Anne presses a glass of wine in his hand almost as soon as he's in the door, but he makes sure to give her a kiss hello, as well.

He sits and chats with Robin while Louis' sisters are all over him. When Gemma and Mitch arrive, Mitch walks in first and silences everyone.

"Fiona's asleep," he says cautiously, as Gemma follows soon, carrying a carseat with a passed out infant. She tiptoes across the living room while everyone else has stopped dead so as to not disturb the baby, and into the twins' room to put the baby down. There's already the monitor going, just audible over the noise of chatter coming from the adults.

Louis gives it a few minutes before he sidles up beside Harry. 

"Baby time," he whispers into Harry's ear. For a moment, Harry blinks, unsure how to respond. Harry thought they were clear on the lack of intimacy in their marriage, and that in order for the two of them to get a baby, there would need to be a lot of paperwork involved. 

He looks over at Louis, to see Louis eyeing the door where the babies are.

"I want to meet Fiona," he says.

Harry almost 'ooooooh's out loud, but decides against it. He pushes back his chair and tugs Louis along to the babies' room. He turns the knob and opens the door slowly, trying to prevent any creaks that might wake one up. As they all know, if one wakes up, the others are soon to follow.

Louis pads over to Fiona, dwarfed in her car seat. She has her little ham-like fist against her cheek, and she looks so innocent. If she could talk, she would talk any of them out of any thing.

"I want to hold her," Louis mouths.

"Do it," Harry mouths back. He's a terrible influence, he knows. Gemma would murder if she knew they were jeopardizing Fiona actually sleeping for once.

Louis crouches down, boots squeaking, and unbuckles the belt on her seat, cooing slightly. 

Taking out his phone, Harry gets ready to snap some pictures of Louis and Fiona. His two favorite people, essentially. 

"Hi bug," he whispers, holding her in his arms. He looks like one of those adverts for the Army, all macho men in uniforms saving small children from danger.

For a moment, Harry wishes that he and Louis were in love, and that they could have children together. He couldn't think of someone being a better father than Louis.

Louis doesn't hold her for long, apparently too scared that she'll wake up and Gemma will chop his balls off. They tiptoe out of the room without disturbing them, and it's only with knowing and slightly condescending looks that the older folk greet them. 

Harry's halfway through his third glass of wine when Louis nudges him. 

"You look half asleep," he comments. It's true, Harry had moments prior barely concealed a yawn.

"You've probably been up longer," Harry retorts, even though that doesn't mean anything. They could both be tired.

"Yeah, let's head back to the flat. I'm anxious to see it in the flesh."

"Well don't get attached," Harry says, before moving to say goodbye to the others.

Harry directs Louis to the flat, only laughing slightly as Louis struggles to get into the small parking spot behind the building. 

When Harry unlocks the door, Louis storms straight ahead, taking a quick peek at the kitchen and living room, before waltzing into the bedroom and stripping off his clothes.

Harry moves to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. Placing the glass aside, he splashes some on his own face and tries to wake up enough to get himself ready for bed.

It's weird, though, because even though they've stayed at each other's places their entire lives, and even though they've shared a bed before, this is the first time they've shared a bed at _their_ flat. It's been just Harry here for the last few months, that even Harry's come to think of it as his. Which is stupid, he reminds himself, since Louis essentially pays for it. 

Harry fills a second glass for Louis, too, and then pads over to the bedroom to put them down. When he walks in, though, he sees Louis splayed out, uniform off and crumpled in the corner, wearing just his pants. He blinks up at Harry wearily, as Harry struggles to look somewhere that isn't his crotch.

It's not like they haven't even seen each other naked before. They have. Super naked. Streaking and skinny dipping and locker room stuff. Innocent kinds of naked. But even then, Louis was young and fleshy, but this Louis, half-naked and in bed, is fit. His skin is golden from the time outside, though his face is more affected than his chest and stomach and legs. His biceps look meatier than they had in Bristol, his thighs firmer, and Harry wonders if that's possible after only a few months at training.

Harry reaches for the uniform, grabbing a few hangers out of the wardrobe to hang it up. He may not be an expert on military life, but he's at least sure that the uniform is supposed to be treated well, and not akin to Harry's charity shop jumpers. 

"You're looking fit there, Tommo," Harry drawls, hoping it sounds casual enough. He has to say _something_ to address his own ogling.

"Oi," Louis responds, turning over, "I knew you were angry we haven't consummated our marriage yet," wiggling his eyebrows. 

Harry hides his smile. "Only because I'm concerned we'll lose control of the kingdom otherwise," he says, as dry and sarcastic as possible.

Louis snorts a laugh and reaches for the glass of water, taking a slurp.

Harry leaves to brush his teeth, and when he comes back, Louis is passed out on his stomach, on top of the sheets and mouth catching flies.

"Idiot," Harry murmurs to himself as he slips under the duvet. Even with the lights off, he finds the soft hum of Louis' breathing comforting as opposed to stifling. 

\---

"Can't help but notice you're nude," Louis grunts as he trudges into the living room, gripping his mug like it's a lifeline. 

"I refuse to change just because you're here," Harry says, looking up from his magazine to smirk at Louis.

Louis laughs a little and curls up in the chair, the one Harry had snagged from off the street a month ago. The flat looks slightly less empty and bleak with it.

Instead of being a dick, Harry grabs the blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over his lap. He's still fresh from his shower, and normally he covets his post-shower air drying time. 

"What time are we supposed to be at Gem's?" Louis asks, scratching at his own belly.

Without thinking it over, Harry responds, "About eleven."

"Walking or driving?"

Harry snorts. "I'll make you walk. I'll drive."

"Hey," Louis protests, sitting up and leaning forward. "S'my car!"

Harry smirks and raises an eyebrow. "Is it though?"

"I married a prick," he mutters as he heaves himself out of the chair. "Also that chair's shit. It's definitely not coming with us."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Go get showered. They're expecting us at eleven. They just want to spend time with you."

"But there's so many people," Louis whinges. Harry looks up to find Louis pouting, as if Harry has any control over the situation.

"Tell me about it. While you've been off turning into some kind of superhero, I've been here changing nappies and dealing with our families. There are a lot of them. They are loud. So the quicker you can become an officer, the faster we can move. I love those babies, but they are not mine and I don't feel it's fair to expect an uncle to clean up explosive diarrhea. Especially in his car."

"My car."

" _Our car_ ," Harry corrects, looking smug again. "You really did marry a prick. So did I, as a matter of fact."

"I'm not going to shower just to sit in a car that has diarrhea all over it."

Harry sighs. "It doesn't have diarrhea all over it... anymore. Besides, it's your niece's fault."

"Oh, it's my niece now."

Harry nods.

Louis waits a beat, and then exhales, long and loud, like he's giving up on the fake fight. 

"I just feel like it's my break, you know? It's my week to do whatever, and all I want is to lounge with you and play GTA and eat like shit. But now it's all about seeing the family and spending time with them and doing what's best for the babies. I'm with you, though. I love them, but I can't take them like this. I don't know how you're doing it."

Harry smiles, and reaches out to place a hand on Louis' shoulder. He misses Louis' long hair, the feel of the strands whispering against his hand when he used to press into Louis' neck or touch his shoulder. "I've got nothing else going on, so it's whatever. But you do deserve some downtime. Everything comes from a good place, though. They love you. They miss you when you're gone. They're not trying to smother you, they just want as much of you as they can get. I'll try and get them to back off."

"Make up a fake romantic date for us? At least one night of peace and quiet away from them?" Louis asks.

"Shouldn't be too hard," Harry agrees, squeezing Louis' shoulder.

"Okay. I'm gonna go wash up. Wearing normal clothes, aw yeah."

Louis hums to himself as he walks towards the toilet. Harry listens to the sound of Louis rifling through cabinets, and muttering curses as he tries to figure out how to turn the shower on.

For a moment, Harry contemplates getting up and going in there and showing him how to work it. But then again, he's nude. Louis has probably stripped off his clothes at this point. Probably not a good idea, he thinks to himself as he coughs and shakes himself free of his thoughts.

\---

Just a couple of days after Louis had gone back to Sandhurst, Harry finds himself with Phoebe at the park.

"Do you miss Louis when he's gone?" Phoebe asks, hanging down from monkey bars. Her trainers kick together as her legs dangle about the ground.

"Of course," Harry responds from his place a few bars down, hands wrapped around the cold metal, feet firmly placed on the synthetic ground.

"What do you do to stop missing him?" she asks. Her bright eyes sparkle in the late autumn sun. Since school started, Harry's spent less of his time juggling the babies and the older ones, but it means that he misses the girls more. Especially since they’re the ones who are actually able to have conversations with him.

"I think about him, I guess," Harry responds slowly. "I think about the fun times we've had together, and that makes me feel happy usually. And I spend time with people that Louis loves. That makes me miss him less."

"Like me?" she crows happily.

Harry grins, letting go of the bars to go to tickle her middle.

"Harry!" she screeches, giggling loudly through her wail. He catches her so she doesn't fall when she lets go of the bars in self-defence, and he spins her twice and places her feet back on the ground.

They both plop down onto the ground, Phoebe lying back and looking up at the sky.

"How long til Louis comes home again?" she asks.

Harry thinks it over. Louis' got another five weeks before he's allowed his second leave from Sandhurst. If Harry's being honest, the second term had been easier than the first.

Settled into his role as unofficial Tomlinson nanny and part-time floor sweeper, he's got a schedule down. He and Louis facetime twice a week now, three times if he's lucky, far better than the once a week from the first term and the radio silence from the first few weeks.

The thing was, with becoming a more senior cadet, Louis had more privileges. The closer they were to the end, the more likely cadets were to head away for weekends, go home and spend time with their families. But Louis hadn't mentioned any time that he was thinking of coming up north. 

Harry kept hearing Louis' rants about his family expecting too much from him, and he hoped that wasn't preventing him from coming home.

"I don't know," he tells Phoebe honestly. "A few more weeks until his break, though. That'll be nice. A nice present from Father Christmas, don't you think?"

Phoebe nods and they lay there until his own stomach growls loudly, disturbing the peace, so they brush themselves off and walk back to the Tomlinson house. Harry doesn't think about the times he and Louis used to spend in the same playground.

\---

"The girls miss you," Harry yawns, scratching his bare chest. He sees himself in the small box in the corner reflect his actions.

"I miss those cuties, too. Give them kisses from me." Louis on the other hand, is already in his uniform, tired looking but proud.

"I miss you, too," Harry says, but it sounds odd rolling off his tongue moments after mentioning the girls. Truth be told, he doesn't say it much these days. Those first few weeks without Louis had felt like losing a limb, but the time and the stability of at least knowing where Louis was and what he was doing and that they were going to talk made him a bit stronger. Less needy, maybe.

"Well, give yourself a kiss from me, too," Louis awkwardly laughs. It strikes Harry how odd their conversations can be.

Harry's seconds away from making a masturbation joke when Louis takes a breath, one of those breaths that indicate a story is coming.

"So I have this idea, and I think you should hear me out before you say no," Louis says.

Harry grins and sits up in bed, letting the sheet slide further down his waist.

"Okay," he responds, waiting for Louis to continue.

"So Zayn brought this up and I thought it was a good idea. So we can start leaving campus on the weekends, as long as there's nothing important going on. Zayn's planning on going to Bristol to see Perrie next weekend. And he has basically been up my arse when I'm going to see you."

Harry smirks into the camera.

"Not following," he says.

"I know that we're over Bristol and all, but what if I met you there and we had the weekend together with Zayn and Perrie?"

Harry smiles to himself, and thinks over the schedule. Another weekend in the village. He was going to drive Fizzy to the movie theatre for a date with a boy from her school, but that responsibility could easily shift over to Jay or Dan, or even Anne or Robin. She had asked Harry because she thought he'd be the least embarrassing-- she was wrong. He was looking forward to making all kinds of jokes and comments on the drive-- was stopping for photos too much? But if he had the chance to be with Louis instead, well, that should be obvious.

"Sounds ace, Lou. We camping at Perrie's?"

Louis grins, clearly pleased that Harry agreed so readily. 

"Yes. And thanks for agreeing, Hazza. I just want some down time to be down time, and I want to spend it with my favourite boy."

"Zayn?" Harry teased.

"You pick up fast."

"I'm excited," Harry says, reaching over to take a sip of water. "Fizzy will just have to find someone else to drive her and her date to the movies."

Louis positively howls at that. "My little sister? Dating? And you're enabling that?"

Harry doesn't have the heart to mention the conversation he and Lottie had a month prior, if this is the way Louis handles an innocent first date.

"It's just a kid-date. It's fine. They'll hold hands and it'll be clammy and uncomfortable for everyone."

Louis shakes his head vigorously. "No. Not kids these days. Maybe when we were young, things were innocent and kids just held hands. And we were awkward virgins until uni, but not kids these days. They send sexy photos at age twelve. I've heard about Year Eights and Nines sexting. They snapchat, Harry."

Louis ends his rants, and it's all Harry can do not to laugh outright. 

"Calm down. It's Fizzy. She has a good head on her shoulders. Besides," he says, trying to change the subject, "why don't you ever send me sexy photos?"

"You don't deserve them," Louis says without missing a beat.

Just to communicate his displeasure, Harry pouts at the screen.

"Okay, I'll text you Perrie's address. Meet there Saturday morning-ish? Noon-ish?"

Grinning and nodding, Harry agrees. "Don't be surprised if I snog you upon seeing you," Harry warns. His voice is light, like he's teasing, but he knows-- they both know-- that with Zayn and Perrie there, it'll have to be a performance at least a little bit. 

That's okay with Harry. The only people he's been spending his time with are only focused on their own bodily functions and need to survive, so he's looking forward to some fun. At least Louis can hold a conversation while he focuses on his own bodily functions.

\---

Bundled up in the cold November air, Louis is standing out front of Perrie's flat when Harry pulls up in the car. 

"There's my baby," Louis says tenderly.

Harry lifts an eyebrow, until he realises Louis is talking to the car.

"Changed out of the uniform already?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, you missed the show," Louis says, moving to wrap Harry up in a hug.

Louis moves to let go, causing Harry to whine.

"No, it's cold. Keep me warm."

Louis obliges, of course, rubbing Harry's upper arms until they’re grinning at each other and Harry decides it's time to go inside.

"Harry's here!" Louis announces as he ushers Harry into the flat. It reminds Harry of Louis' Bristol place-- it is clearly a young person's flat. There are pictures plastered all over the walls and the refrigerator, Perrie with Zayn in several nauseatingly sweet shots, and photos with her family and her friends. There are lots of photos without Perrie, which Harry assumes belong to her flatmate. Empty wine and liquor bottles line the mantle, and there are shoes and clothes everywhere. There's a small pile of dishes in the sink.

It looks lived in.

He thinks of the flat in Holmes Chapel and he cringes. It's basically a holding place until the next point. There's no point in nesting now, not with four and half months to go until Louis finishes his commissioning course. 

The next place, though. That'll be home, for both him and Louis. He'll make sure they do their best to settle in then. It's too easy to put off making the Holmes Chapel flat feel like home when he knows they won't be there this time next year, and when he's got his actual mum's house less than a kilometer away.

Perrie puts together a salad for them while the soup she makes sizzles on the stove. Zayn and Louis scoff at the salad, going on and on about the food at Sandhurst, and how they need to be fattened up, but Perrie effectively tunes it out. 

Harry helps out by whipping together a vinaigrette that he finds last-minute via Google on his phone, and gives Perrie a warm smile. 

The soup is perfect for the cold winter day, and it warms his throat and stomach as he gulps it down. The curry and lentils add to the warm feeling settling in his belly, but he's sure that part of that is an emotional warmth. He loves spending time with Louis, and he's quite fond of Zayn and even Perrie at this point too. 

It's better than cleaning spit up or interrogating a fourteen year old boy on his intentions. 

Dinner out takes them to a Thai place they used to frequent, though none of them all together. Louis used to show up at Harry's flat with an extra takeaway even though the place was closer to Harry's flat than Louis'. 

Even still, there's the weird moment when the cheque comes, and Perrie and Zayn bicker over paying it. Zayn moves to put his card in for the two of them, but Perrie wants to chip in, yet Zayn insists on covering it. Harry just kind of looks over at Louis, raising his eyebrows, a small smile developing. 

Harry shifts to pull his own wallet out of his back pocket, slipping the card easily enough. One bonus to getting married, he thinks to himself, is that it doesn't really matter whose card is being run, because the money is all being taken from the same place.

As soon as the server slips away with the cards, Louis chuckles and takes another sip of his water.

"The sooner you two get married, the sooner that argument stops happening."

"Not soon enough," Perrie says, eyes gazing down at the ring sitting neatly on her finger.

"You know," Zayn starts, "We've been sounding like such old marrieds today. It's quite sad, really."

"Innit," Harry agrees. "I think we need the club to remind us how to be young again."

Two shots in at the club, however, Harry regrets his statement. Straight vodka hovering in his chest, it seems like. Like nailpolish remover. If someone drank that. 

"Cheer up, sunshine," Louis shouts into his ear. The bass is thunderous, crawling under Harry's skin. He presses a cold drink into his hand, trapping it between their two bodies. Vodka-lemonade. 

Harry turns into Louis and bends down to his ear to shout back. "I'm plenty cheerful. I'm with you. But that vodka was shite."

Louis throws his head back and cackles, throat exposed and glistening. 

Harry waits for Louis to calm down, his fond smile growing as Louis' eyes crinkle up. Harry's never totally sure what he says that's so funny, at least to Louis, but it's always nice to be appreciated.

"Seems like you don't like it," Harry shouts, one hand on Louis' shoulder.

"What? The drink?" Louis asks, face confused. "It's a bit on the shit side, but I'll live."

Harry shakes his head. "The programme. Neither you or Zayn seem to be happy."

Louis shakes his head in return. The two of them are so close Harry feels the condensation from Louis' drink left on his arm, and his chest rise and fall with his breath.

"I don't think we're supposed to like it, though. Like, it's not supposed to be a holiday or fun. It's supposed to train us for war."

Harry crinkles his nose up. He hates when Louis mentions war-- always has. Partly because Harry has always been so firmly passive, he can't stand to think of Louis shooting a gun at another human being. Harry can't compartmentalise good and evil the way that OTC and Army life has done with Louis.

Harry doesn't respond, doesn't know how to. He knows Louis is right, on one hand. If it were fun and easy, everyone would do it and no one would want to leave. If Louis can make it through the next few months, then he's in a much better position to be successful as a soldier. That includes war. 

"You don't seem happy," Louis says, throwing Harry's words right back at him.

Harry narrows his eyes, because Louis always finds a way to do this. "No. I'm fine. I love your family. I love my family. I just feel like I'm failing them a bit."

Harry takes another sip of his drink, trying to chase the taste of shame out of his mouth. It's not the place to be having this conversation, but then again, Harry and Louis haven't had the time or the privacy for a deep chat as of late. 

"You're not failing anyone," Louis starts to shout, trying to get over the noise from the speakers. Harry assumes that Louis' got more to say, but Perrie comes crashing into them, Zayn in tow, a drink in hand not clutching his.

"Zayn agreed to dance!" she shouts. "Come on!"

Harry and Louis both crack a smile, momentarily drawn out of their serious bubble. They're out. They're young. They're supposed to be having fun.

They push their way onto the dance floor, the club lights flashing in turn with the Pitbull song. 

"Drink more," Louis instructs. "It's the key to not feeling like a failure."

Harry chokes out a laugh at that and shakes his head. He turns back toward Louis and lets out the most sarcastic "Suuuuure" he can muster.

Perrie's arms go around Zayn's neck as soon as she's found a spot for all four of them, and Harry tries not to laugh out loud at the sight of Zayn dancing. Perrie's really carrying them in terms of ability, but then again, Harry's not exactly a professional dancer himself, so he shouldn't really be talking.

Harry lets himself go, taking sips of his drink and forgetting about all of his responsibilities in the village. He just thinks about being here, free, with his best mate, and two other mates, having fun. When he focuses on that, it's easier to smile at Louis, grinning, bumping around off-beat to the music, annoying the people around them. 

Before he knows it, he and Louis are making fun of the people around them, each one of them challenging the other to copy their dance style. It starts with Louis imitating one guy's shoulder-lean, which Harry then imitates, before he moves into Louis pointing out someone else's move which is just using one arm as if he were fanning someone else. Harry's personal favourite is when he points out the guy a few people away that uses his whole body to dance, shoulders and arms flailing, hips shaking. Louis takes to the challenge instantly, causing Harry to buckle over with laughter until Louis finally puts a hand on his back to get him to straighten out.

In rebuttal, Louis jerks his head over to where Perrie and Zayn are dancing next to them, grinding and snogging each other, as if they were still in uni.

Harry rolls his eyes, and then looks over at Louis. Was that a challenge? Because Harry doesn't back down from those.

Harry hipbumps Perrie to try and separate them, so at least they realise how ridiculous they look in public. 

He smirks at Louis, and without dropping his gaze he gulps the last sip from his drink. He drops the empty plastic cup to the ground, making a mental promise to pick it up and throw it away before they leave. He doesn't want to litter, but he has a feeling he'll need both hands for this.

With another stretch of the arms, he launches himself at Louis, who cackles as he catches him. Turns out that all of the physical training they do works out for the best, since Louis can practically hold Harry up. Still, Harry shimmies until his feet are back on the floor, but he doesn't step out of Louis' personal space, just sinks a little lower and holds his lower back to pull them flush together.

"You're ridiculous!" Louis shouts in his ear, which Harry takes as further incentive to grind into him.

Louis cackles again, but Harry feels his hands come around his lower back and keep him steady.

A sober Harry would probably be less filthy, but with enough vodka running through his bloodstream, Harry doesn't quite see the problem with moving his hips. He's supposed to be mimicking Perrie and Zayn's dancing, after all, and Perrie and Zayn are about two steps away from fucking on the dance floor. A little circular thrusting is just seeing his mission through.

He hears a little squeak next to him, and he breaks his eye contact with Louis to see Perrie gawking at the two of them.

"Didn't realise marrieds still dirty danced," she teases.

Louis squawks indignantly, tightening his grip on Harry's button-up, wrinkling it and pressing it into his lower back.

"Just you wait, Edwards," Louis laughs. They turn back to each other, still all tangled up, a mass of limbs, both still instinctively rocking to the music. 

"They're so ridiculous," Louis says-- or at least, that's what Harry makes of it-- before one of Louis' hands ghost up his back and into Harry's hair.

Harry smirks at him, leaning in even closer, so his breath spreads out on Louis' face. Louis' eyes are hooded, confident, like they're still in on the same joke. They're the only two in the whole club who realise how ridiculous everyone is, how silly their mating rituals look.

"Yeah, the snogging looks pretty sloppy," Harry comments, as close to Louis' ear as he can get. They're glued together at this point, both with how tight they're gripping each other and the crowds growing around them.

"Bet you could get sloppier," Louis breathes. Harry nods.

"You think they'd realise how dumb they look then?"

Harry feels Louis nod, which Harry thinks is as good of a challenge as any.

With Louis' hand already threaded in Harry's hair, it's all too easy to let himself be guided into the kiss. Louis' mouth is slippery from the drink, and cold, like he'd been chomping on ice cubes. For two people who had spent the first twenty years of their lives not kissing, they sure have been making up for it the last few months. Though Harry supposes that's what married people do.

Harry feels them start to sway, not with the music, but unsteady on their feet. He wishes they were near a wall somewhere, some place he could push Louis up against the wall and cover him, envelope him, make a real show of it.

The kisses before had been chaste-- pecks in front of families, all about keeping up appearances. And for all extensive purposes, this is partly about keeping up appearances, too. Zayn and Perrie should think they're still in the honeymoon phase, and theoretically, that stage should involve public snogging. 

But there's also tongue involved, which is certainly new. Harry can actually taste Louis like this, all vodka, sharp teeth, and thick tongue. Louis lets out a kind of groan, which Harry stills at, and pulls away. His first thought it to immediately look to see Zayn and Perrie's reaction, but when he turns, he doesn't see them.

The two of them spin trying to find them. 

"Where'd they fucking go?" Louis shouts, barely audible over the bass.

Harry shrugs.

Louis jerks his head back towards the entrance of the club. “AIR,” he mouths, which has Harry nodding in agreement.

Louis moves to grab Harry's hand to help lead him out of the crowd, but Harry stops suddenly and tugs on Louis' hand so he doesn't move.

Harry quickly looks down at the ground, trying to spot the cup he had abandoned earlier, but with no luck. His feet stick the floor, and he doesn't want to get too close for fear of being trampled by the lust-ridden bodies. 

"My cup," he says with a pout.

"The cleaners will forgive you," Louis shouts as he pulls Harry through the crowd, Harry plastered to his back.

"Where are Zayn and Perrie?" he wonders as they get to the doorway, making their way back into the night air. There's still a line of people waiting to get into the club, despite it being the early hours of the morning already.

The bouncers eye them suspiciously for a moment, but then must realise they're drunk idiots when they notice Louis trying to waft fresh air into his own nose.

"Do you think they saw?" Harry asks. "Do you think they realise how daft they look?"

"So daft," Louis agrees.

\---

"Hello, doves," Louis shouts as he rushes into the Tomlinson house, leaving the wreath on the front door wavering. Harry stills it before he shuts the door behind them, shaking his head.

"Happy Christmas!" he crows, kissing each of the girls on the crown of their head as they gleefully stare up at him.

“Happy Birthday!” she scream back at him, with varying levels of volume and enthusiasm. 

He ends his line with Jay, kissing her on the cheek and pulling her in for a big hug. 

"Sorry we're late. Traffic was mental," Harry says, unwinding his scarf and hanging it on the peg nearby. He shakes his coat off gently and breathes into his hands, trying to warm them up.

Jay waves him off. "Don't worry about it. Got your text early enough I held off putting the roast in."

"You look awfully smart," Fizzy says, eyeing Louis. "Don't think I've seen that outfit on you before."

"Outfit?" Louis laughs, looking down at his pressed pants and shiny shoes. "It's my Dress Uniform. Fancy events stuff. Like when you see the Queen visiting Sandhurst."

"Did you meet the Queen?" Daisy asks, kicking away.

"Nope. Just your typical fancy pants type stuff. Anyway, now that I'm here, I can change, so pardon." Louis quickly shuffles off as Harry flops down on the sofa, stretching his legs across Phoebe and Daisy's laps.

"Texting my mum so she knows we're here," Harry says. He reaches up to loosen the tie around his neck, and then thinks better of it and takes it off entirely, unbuttoning the first two buttons and tucking the silk-blend into his pocket.

Louis comes traipsing back down the stairs in jogging pants and a ratty t-shirt that look like what he owned at uni. Harry raises an eyebrow, but Louis shushes him before Harry even opens his mouth.

"Let me relax in my trackies, please. That uniform is well uncomfortable."

Harry smiles and looks back at his phone, ignoring the way the twins squirm underneath his legs. His face hurts at pretending not to humour them.

"Louis," Jay calls out, "Come chat please."

Harry watches Louis pull a face, but he goes dutifully. Harry peeks over at Daisy who's looking curious. 

"Dare you to go spy," he whispers at her. She nods quickly, so he lifts his legs just enough for her to duck underneath and run to the wall next to the kitchen. 

Before long, she's beckoning Harry over. 

Pressed up against the wall, Harry feels foolish for trying to overhear. It's really nothing, and if it was something important, Louis would tell him later anyway. But Daisy's in full spy-mode now, so there's no point in backing away.

"That husband of yours," Jay starts, and Harry feels his chest start to beat wildly. Consider his interest piqued, then. 

He looks down at Daisy who is fishmouthing back at him. Harry holds a finger up to his lips.

"What about him?" Louis asks, voice low.

"You are not treating that boy right," Jay says. Harry can't see, but he can picture the scene in his head. Jay is probably pointing her finger at Louis' chest now.

"What are you going on about? I treat him fine," Louis argues. His voice does that thing when he gets defensive.

"No, no, no. Just now. And every time you've been on break. You don't show him any affection. You barely touch him, I think. It's like you were before you got married. Like you never got married."

Louis scoffs. "Or like we've been married for years and years," he points out. That was always the thing, even before they got hitched. Everyone in their families called them an old married couple. 

"Do you take him out on dates?"

"I've been at camp, so no. But we just went out a few weeks ago when we went to Bristol," Louis argues.

"You certainly don't hold his hand or anything in front of us. He's going to develop a complex."

Louis scoffs again, feeling frustrated by the confrontation so soon after getting home. "Harry doesn't care for PDA, mum. Just leave it."

Harry rolls his eyes-- that's not necessarily true, but he doesn't exactly expect Louis to tell his mum here and now about their deal. 

"All I'm saying is that boy has been waiting around for years for you to realise you're perfect for each other. He's here every day helping out. He just drove six hours on Christmas Eve for your birthday. Why are you going to treat him like he's just your friend? Some Army pal? He's your _partner_ , Louis. I raised you better than that. Buy the boy some bloody flowers. What did you get him for Christmas?"

Harry balks, feeling like he shouldn't be listening. It's always uncomfortable knowing that his family thinks of him as some waiting damsel, just sitting patiently until Louis smartens up. His mum had tried to intervene numerous times, no matter how many times Harry had insisted he wasn't in love with Louis and he wasn't waiting around for a gross declaration. Well, now they were all smug because they thought they had been right all along, but still.

There's a moment of silence, which Jay clearly takes to mean that Louis didn't get Harry a present, since she starts scolding him again. Even if Harry hadn't been spying around the corner he would have heard that.

At the same moment, the front door jiggles open and Anne and Robin come bustling through, arms being weighed down by presents. 

Harry leaps away from his post to greet them, grabbing the bag of gifts from Robin's hands and placing it under the tree. 

"Gemma's are down there," Anne tells him as she hangs up her own coat. "They're at Mitch's dad's tonight."

Harry nods as he unloads the gifts and Robin leaves to go get the turkey from the car.

"It didn't overcook, did it?" Louis asks from the doorway. Harry's eyebrows furrow in concern, but Anne just shakes her head and gives Louis a kiss on the cheek.

"No, no. Just kept it warm. Hello, dear, so good to see you. Happy birthday."

Louis wraps his arms around her to keep her in a hug as Harry watches fondly.

Lottie and Fizzy get the table ready, pulling out and putting the extensions in until it's a table that looks like it might be able to fit all of them. When they finally sit, Harry's stomach is turning in on itself, and he thinks of the cheese toastie he ate hours ago on his way down to Sandhurst to get Louis.

He notices right away when Louis plops down next to him that he's trying to ham up a bit. He stretches his arm behind Harry's chair, and it takes all of Harry's concentration not to start laughing at him.

Harry turns to him, lips pressed tight in an effort to hold it in. He glances quickly over to Jay, who's eyeing them carefully, so he shields himself a little bit and holds his hand up like he's telling Louis a secret.

"You know I don't really care about that kind of stuff, right?"

Louis looks like he wants to laugh. 

"You totally heard," he whispers back conspiratorially.

Harry shrugs. "She really went to town on you."

Louis glances down at the table and scoots closer, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "Yeah, but she has a point. Husbands do show affection. So please allow me to look like a decent son. She's always preferred you anyway."

"Not true," Harry laughs, but then he remembers Robin's fondness of Louis and Harry's own attachment to Louis' siblings. Maybe they are irrevocably tangled in each others' lives. 

"At least if I look like a romantic, she won't disown me," Louis whispers back. Harry peeks over to Jay again, who's no longer watching them. 

"Romance is dead," he chuckles, before turning to watch Robin carve the turkey and Dan slice the roast. Harry's so hungry, he's not sure where to start.

Louis leans up without warning, apparently not done with their chat, and licks his cheek. Harry jumps with a shriek with surprise, before he turns to Louis with wide eyes. Louis, of course, is crumpled over with laughter, head practically sitting in his dinner plate.

"Boys," Anne scolds them. "Are you in your teens or your twenties?"

Dan gives a quick toast once everyone's in their seats, a quick birthday toast and a heartfelt thanks for sharing their time together. 

From there, it's a passing of bowls and plates, trying to portion out the sections of his plate to make sure he gets all of it. Harry stuffs himself with turkey and yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes. He manages a bit of carrots and turnips and leafy greens before he leans back and closes his eyes, admitting defeat.

"There's still pudding," Louis says, nudging him. "It's my birthday, so you can't say no."

Harry cracks an eye open at him. "Clearly you want me to vomit all over you tonight."

Louis smiles and shrugs, shoving a forkful of red cabbage in his mouth.

"Do you think if you feed me the pudding, your mum will find it romantic?" Harry asks. "I don't think I can lift my arm."

Louis shakes his head, and Harry decides to hold off on sweets until after they exchange gifts. They both end up on the floor for the exchange, letting the girls have the sofas and the cushions. Even with Jay in and out of the room to check on the babies, Harry rests his head on Louis' shoulders and waits out the commotion.

"I vote Robin to wear the hat!" Louis shouts, vibrating Harry's body as he gestures. "He's the most Father Christmas-like!"

Robin laughs and pats his own belly, genial as ever. Louis gets his way, though, because Robin is soon decked out with a Father Christmas hat, handing off presents to Daisy and Phoebe and telling them where to go. 

"Er, did we get the girls anything?" Louis whispers to Harry.

Harry smiles and doesn't respond, raising an eyebrow.

"No, really?" Louis asks again, as Fizzy doesn't even wait for the others to get presents before she tears into hers. 

"Ahh," she shrieks. "Thanks Louis, thanks Harry." She holds up her new sketchpad and oil pastels, grinning for what seems to be the first time in months. 

"I took care of it," Harry says to Louis with a wink.

"Best husband," Louis announces, smiling as Phoebe drops a couple of parcels in his lap.

"That one's mine," Harry says, pointing at the thin box adorned with a small bow. Harry had put away some money from the bakery, and used his card for groceries in case Louis was better about checking banking statements than he thought. They were Man U tickets, of course-- not the best seats by any means, no fancy clubhouses for them quite yet. The timing was perfect, though, since it was just after Zayn and Perrie's wedding, so they won't have moved by then. It was really a present for Harry just as much as it was for Louis.

Louis beams as he pulls the tickets out. 

"Ace, Hazza. You really didn't have to get anything, though," Louis says, looking serious for a moment. He clearly doesn't want to bring up the money issue in front of their families, but Harry gets the message. He shakes Louis off.

"It's fine. Bakery money. Besides, it's your Birthmas." Harry tilts his head and smiles, hoping the charm works enough. 

"Okay, well. Mine is sort of weak," he gestures to the small package in Harry's lap. "But I know you think I didn't get you anything, so surprise?"

Harry grins and moves to look at the two hastily wrapped gifts. Louis must have had it stuffed with his own bags because Harry certainly didn't bring it with them.

Harry opens his first thing and cackles so loud it draws the attention of everyone else. Louis smirks behind his own hand. 

"I saw it and I thought of you," he manages to get out.

Harry looks down at the phone case in his hand, camouflage backing with bold pink block letters: ARMY WIFE.

"You're such a prick," Harry laughs, turning to push Louis away from him.

"What, it's so you. You love Army life!" 

Harry can't hold his grin back, but he pretends to still be upset. "I hate you. You're the worst."

Louis nudges the other small box towards him. "Alright. Try that one instead."

Side-eying Louis, he starts to tear at the edges, revealing a small box under the surface.

"It's not, like," Louis starts, putting his hand over the box before Harry can open it. "Okay, so Zayn was asking me about the necklace, and your lack of a ring, and I was like 'We're not ring people'. And he was like, 'Oh really, because Harry had about three rings on when we went out the other day.' So it's not like, fancy or anything like that. I got it from a pawn shop, and then took it to get engraved in a moment of soppiness. Feel free to take the piss forever, but yeah. Okay. Now you can look."

Harry takes the lid off and takes out the silver band from the box. It's thick, but not bulky, kind of vintage, and really cool. It fits with his other ones. 

Harry spins it around, flipping it to see the engraving. He smiles at it, because of course. 

_Partners in crime._

"Sick," Harry says. "Above and beyond, really."

And because they're in front of their families, Harry has no problem slipping it on his ring finger and leaning over to kiss Louis on the lips. Hell, if Jay wants PDA, Harry has no problem serving it up.

He pulls back and they smile at each other quickly, before Harry's eyes dart over to the rest of the room. Everyone's watching them, which makes Harry flush with embarrassment. On one hand, he's glad that they at least witnessed that and that it wasn't another repeat of the Bristol snog that has gone unmentioned, but at the same time, everyone looks amused.

"I think I might get sick from how sweet that all is," Anne says, turning to Robin. 

"Focus on your own presents, please," Louis says, voice wavering. "Hey Lottie, what did I get you, anyway?"

\---

Louis takes the train back South a week and a half later. 

"Three more months," he says, as Harry drops him off at the station.

"Call me as soon as you find out," Harry urges. "What if I need to start learning German?" 

"You'd pick it up so fast," Louis says, like he's already mentioned three times in the last week. "I'm hoping to be commissioned by the Intelligence Corps, but even then I'd have to go into the Infantry Corps, so who knows. I still have to interview and everything. Germany could be fun."

"Ja," Harry says, handing Louis his last bag from the boot. 

"You're coming down for the parade?" Louis asks again.

Harry reaches out and shakes him. "I would not miss that godforsaken event."

Louis laughs, straightening his beret. "Okay. Just checking. It's kind of important."

Harry leans in for one last hug, thinking about how it'll be the last time for a bit they have to do this. He's loved having Louis with him for the holidays, ringing in the New Year with champagne and leftover crackers like nothing had changed. He'd even miss making Louis his morning tea.

"I know. Okay. Go back there. Rock those interviews. Nail that adventure course. Go jump out of some planes. Just stay safe."

Harry manages to walk away without choking up. It does get easier, he tells himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter five. As always, thanks to Daisy, Shaina, and Sarah for looking through this despite their busy lives. It's very much appreciated. :))))

Reaching over and blindly grappling for his phone, Harry answers on the second ring. He is barely conscious enough to register that Louis is trying to facetime him, even though they do this twice a week. 

"18th Largest City in the UK," Louis says.

"What? Hi," Harry says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before flopping back down onto the bed, phone still in hand.

"No, come on. I can't see you. It's not fun if I can't see your face. Play along."

Harry manoeuvers the phone so the camera is still pointing at him, splotchy morning face and all.

"Okay, so I'll start over. Hint one: It's the 18th largest city in the UK. Hint two: Big industry town. Think linen, tobacco, ship-building. Your second-favourite film."

"It's too early for this," Harry whines. "Are you even speaking English right now?"

"Oh, hint three: You may need to go brush up on some Gaelic."

Harry sits up at that, letting the sheet pool in his lap.

"Wait," he says, coughing to clear his throat. "Are we moving to Ireland?"

" _Northern_ Ireland," Louis corrects. "Although you didn't play along, so maybe I shouldn't have told you."

"What?" Harry shouts, jumping out of bed. "Are you talking about Belfast?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" Louis says, grinning. "So I got my notice this morning. Army Infantry. Mercian Regiment. Palace Barracks-- Northern Ireland. It's a little outside Belfast, but close enough. Sick, right? I was so worried we'd end up somewhere truly wretched. A few of me mates heading up to Durness. Yikes. Oh! And best of all!"

"What's best of all?" Harry asks, slipping on a pair of trousers, phone on top of the dresser.

"There's like five Army companies on this barracks-- it's huge. So, like, a company can be made up of like, six platoons, so basically--"

"I know, I know," Harry admits. "I don't completely tune you out. I do have access to The Google, after all."

Louis laughs. "Anyway! Best of all! There're a lot of different platoons there, including that of our dear friend..."

"Zayn?!" Harry shouts again.

Louis nods enthusiastically. "I knew you were fond of him."

"Of course I like him. I never thought he was as twatty as the others, now did I? Going to his wedding, after all. That's sick. Holy shit."

"So we've got a ton to do. We need to pack up everything in the flat and figure out the best way to get it there. And we need to find a way to tell our mums that we're moving to Belfast."

Harry moves out of the bedroom, towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. "I like how you keep saying 'we', but _we_ both know it's going to be me who does all that."

"You're not wrong," Louis laughs. 

"And _we_ have to find Zayn and Perrie a wedding present. And _we_ have to find a suit that can double as a Passing Parade-slash-wedding suit. Man, I wasn't that dressed up for my own wedding," Harry continues.

"So true. Anyway. I'm buzzing-- so close to the end of this programme. So close to being an actual Officer. So close to moving to fucking Northern Ireland with you."

"I'm so overwhelmed. Okay. You've succeeded in getting me out of bed. Now I need to make a list of what needs to happen. See you soon. Love you, bye." Harry hangs up the call without waiting for a response, instead choosing to watch his water boil in his plugged-in kettle.

"Holy moly," he whispers to himself. His mum is going to shit herself.

\---

"I don't think I like the idea of you both being in Belfast," Jay says again. 

"Jay," Mark says, "Don't you think the last ten months have been hard enough on them? Of course Harry's going to go to Belfast with him. It's not like Louis is heading out to Afghanistan."

Harry jiggles his leg and thinks, not for the first time, that he must deserve a prize for this level of friendship. With limited invitations, Louis had been backed into a corner, and reluctantly invited the group he thought would be most appropriate for the occasion: Harry, Jay, Lottie, and Mark.

Which is of course how Harry and Lottie end up sandwiched between Jay and Mark, who continue to snap at each other.

Also, Harry keeps getting hit with both Lottie's and Jay's hats. 

"Jay, no need to worry," Harry says, "Belfast has been stable for a while. It's not the same as before. And we're not even in the city."

"Yes, I know. I also know that was the same barracks with the car bomb." 

Harry shuts his mouth and faces forward, praying for the ceremony to begin. Harry loves Jay, of course, loves the whole Tomlinson clan, but he doesn't quite understand how she'll handle Louis' deployment if she's so adamant against his base.

"Years ago, mum," Lottie chimes in, rolling her eyes.

Harry looks down at his watch, shuffling under the blazer. It's rather warm, despite the gray skies and mistiness in the air. He eyes the umbrella propped against the bench in front of him. 

"Oh look, a horse," Lottie sighs, causing Harry to snort in agreement. The crowd around them hushes quickly, attention on the serious formality of the occasion. Harry glances around, looking at everyone. Even though he theoretically has every right to be here, he still feels out of place. 

He squints, trying to spot Louis, but with the hundreds of bodies all dressed the same, it proves difficult. 

He struggles to follow the programme, but he at least finds solace in the fact that Lottie is as lost as he is. He likes when the cadets march together, and though he's not crazy about the gun thing, he does think it's cool when they move all at the same time. 

When at one point, all the cadets shuffle off to the side, he hears Lottie try to cover a snort next to him, which sets him off. The two of them sit there, during Louis' big moment, trying not to laugh as boys in smart uniforms attempt to bring back the Electric Slide.

"Oh, that's his battalion," Harry breathes, gesturing to the side. Instantly, they all have their phones up and recording, watching as Louis presents arms and marches slow and calculated.

After that, of course, are the lunches, which Harry is so thankful for. His stomach was getting restless for a bit, the muesli bar that he had eaten for breakfast not enough.

His hand is clammy in Louis' as Louis tugs him from person to person, introducing them. The names are all a blur at this point. He had expected this from the ball, sure, hence the other formalwear he had brought with him. Right now, he feels a bit like a tramp next to all the officers in their dress uniforms and the women in their fancy hats. The blazer isn't quite cutting it.

"Be honest," Harry says to Louis once they get back to the Travelodge. "I look shabby."

"You don't look shabby," Louis says, spread out on the bed in just his pants.

Harry pulls apart the tie around his neck. He's glad he decided to opt for the bowtie for the ball.

"Do you regret that we did this?" Harry asks, head tilted. "So, like you could be going to the ball with a proper date?"

Louis sits up smirking as Harry unbuttons his shirt.

"First of all, where is this insecurity coming from? Second of all, since when are you not a proper date?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I suppose I do," he says. "It's fine. I'll have way more fun with you, anyway. Just like in Belfast, I know I'll have way more fun with you than anyone else I could be with."

Harry nods, mollified. 

"I'm fucking tired. Not to minimise what you did today, Lou, because that was great and all. But I just had to sit between your mum and Mark and let me tell you. Not fun."

"Oh my god," Louis groans, covering his face with his hands. "How bad were they? Bad?"

"Little snips after everything. Both of them."

"Ugh, I didn't want to, like, leave Mark out of it, obviously. I like Dan and all, but he's not my dad. He wasn't going to come to this."

"It's fine. It's over. Anyway, if someone tries to give you shite over who you invited, first you can blame me. And then if that doesn't work, pull the old 'pity-me-I'm-going-off-to-war' bit. I hear it's dead useful."

"You're a prick," Louis says, letting his arms fall back on the bed.

"You're the one using up all the space," Harry says, nudging his arms. "I want to nap before the ball."

Louis inches his way back to one side of the mattress, leaving enough space for Harry to crawl in. They both stay on top of the comforter, letting themselves lie there in silence as the afternoon sun creeps through the blinds.

Harry turns on his side towards Louis, smiling because Louis still has his eyes open. 

"I am proud of you, you know," Harry says.

"Thanks," Louis replies.

"I've missed having you around the last few months. Even with our breaks, it's just not enough," he says, breaking the seriousness to tease Louis a bit.

Louis sticks out his tongue petulantly. "I've missed you too. Things were harder than I thought. It was nice to know you had my back and that you were okay. Safe, fed, not prostituting yourself."

"Do you want to do something for our anniversary?" Harry asks, chuckling.

"That is coming up, shit," Louis says. Then he lets out a laugh, eyes crinkling up. "And I almost forgot."

"Proper husband you are," Harry laughs, eyes narrowed.

"We can definitely do something. Add it to our list of holidays."

"We need a re-do of Crepe Day," Harry reminds him.

"Yes. So what do marrieds do on anniversaries?" Louis asks.

Harry smirks, nestling his crown of curls in the pillow. "Dinner and sex, I hear."

"Well, we can do dinner," Louis starts.

Harry laughs. "What? You don't want to have sex?"

Louis shakes his head. "It's not that I-- urgh. You shithead." He reaches over and shoves at Harry's shoulder, cackling as Harry grapples at the sheets to prevent himself from sliding off the bed. 

Harry settles back on the bed, still smiling, before he picks up a book from the bedside table and flips it open.

"I thought you were going to sleep," Louis says.

Harry shrugs, so Louis leans to the left, trying to get a peek at the title. Gaelic phrases.

"Wake me up in an hour if I do fall asleep," Louis asks. "Need to freshen up before the ball. Lots of photos. I'm kind of a big deal."

Harry doesn't respond, but he can't hold back the smile on his face.

A few hours later, however, Harry feels much more comfortable in his tailored suit than he had in the blazer. He fits in more, looks more posh, looks like he matches up to Louis more. 

"Zayn and Perrie," Louis points out, across the lawn. They haven't gone inside yet, just hovering with their champagne glasses.

Harry grabs Louis' hand and drags him towards the pair, only letting go to give Perrie a big hug. He breathes in her freesia perfume as she squeals in delight.

"I was looking for you all day!" she says.

"We need a picture," Louis announces, scoping around them for someone to act as photographer.

He ends up snagging an older woman, who happily takes Louis' phone and a few shots of the four of them holding glasses and looking proper fancy. 

As soon as the woman walks away, Harry turns back to Perrie to chat wedding.

"I'm so done with it all, H. You definitely had the right idea," she says, taking a sip from her glass. "I still have a few table cards to do, my last fitting, picking up all menus from the shop."

"It's going to be amazing," he tells her. "You're going to look amazing. Everything will be amazing. And then it will be over, and you won't have to stress about it anymore. Then you can just enjoy married life."

Louis and Zayn sidle up beside the two of them after having snuck away for some more photos.

Louis' arm sneaks around Harry's middle, pulling him closer. Harry tries to not let his eyes widen in surprise. Despite the time that's gone by, it's still odd for them to be cuddling in public like this. 

"Dodgems, please," he whispers in Harry's ear.

"There are dodgems?" Harry asks, turning in Louis' grip. Louis nods, grinning.

The four of them quickly cheers and tip their glasses back, chugging the delicate champagne. It fizzes in Harry's throat, tickles his nose, until he finally swallows and offers Zayn a grin. 

They ditch their glasses and head over to the dodgems, under a big tent, with flashing lights and sounds. 

"Is this a ball or a carnival?" Perrie asks, hiking her long dress up so she can finagle herself into one of the cars.

"Get 'em, Pez," Zayn says, looking for the next open car.

"You go get that one, I'll go over here," Louis says to Harry, pointing at a couple of open cars.

Harry smoothes out his trouser legs as he gets in, chuckling to himself as his hem raises, showing his fancy dress socks. It feels so weird to have these competing sides: mature and childish; serious and silly; posh and common.

He's hit out of his thoughts by a cackling Louis.

Harry glares purposefully and guns it, trying to escape Louis.

When he turns to look behind him, he sees Zayn going right for Louis. He tries to turn himself around, heading straight for Louis, head on. He sees Louis smirk, but that's right when Zayn slams into Louis from behind, sending him right into Harry's car. 

"Oi, me arse," Louis shouts after being knocked around. Harry and Zayn offer each other an air high five.

"Hiyaaaaaaaaah," Perrie shouts as she comes careening into Louis' car for the final blow, setting them all off laughing again. 

"I need more champagne," Louis mutters as the lights come on and they all clamber out of the cars. Harry grins and takes his hand again, knowing that Louis is only pretending to be a sore sport about it all.

The four of them snag more champagne on the way inside, Harry promptly dropping a strawberry in his and watching it fizz more.

The four of them stand at the back of the room, watching the bodies dance to the live band. Perrie wraps herself up in Zayn's arms, the two of them lovingly swaying off the beat as Harry and Louis people-watch.

"I think this would be a good moment for you to try and kiss me," Louis says, leaning in to whisper in Harry's ear.

Harry's eyebrows shoot into his hairline, but he tries to keep his face straight for the sake of the game, at least.

He turns his head to eye Louis, who smirks and pretends to be all angelic.

"And why's that?" Harry asks.

"Because it's my big day," Louis reasons. "We're in the company of friends. Why not?"

Harry grins, taking a sip of his champagne.

"Maybe it would be a good moment for you to kiss me instead," he challenges.

Louis thinks that one over. "Sounds like a lot of work."

"A lot of work to kiss me?" Harry repeats, voice dubious. "Haven't heard that one before."

Louis laughs. "Oh, are you quite finished?" he asks as he tips up and pecks Harry lightly. Harry hadn't been expecting a snog by any means, not really the time or the place, but the way Louis' lips barely graze over Harry's before he pulls away leaves Harry a bit unsatisfied. 

Harry grins wryly at Louis but doesn't comment, instead choosing to reach up and fix his fringe.

Louis snags a whole bottle of champagne for them to split, giggling as he refreshes the glasses over and over again.

By midnight, Harry feels like the carbonation from the wine has made its way into his body, making him lighter than air. He's so happy, and having so much fun, that he feels like he could just start floating up, like that scene in Willy Wonka. 

The countdown starts outside, with everyone hovering about, watching the numbers tick down on the side of the clocktower. When midnight comes, everyone cheers, and it reminds Harry so much like New Year's that he swoops down and plants another kiss on Louis, letting it linger. 

"Congratulations, Officer Tomlinson," he says with a wink, before Zayn slaps him on the back to get a hug in.

\---

Perrie practically floats down the aisle, beaming as she looks straight ahead, locking eyes with Zayn.

Harry can't help but tilt his head as she glides past, observing the way her train drags across the top of the blades of grass.

Zayn slides his hands on the bottom of his own sherwani, trying to get rid of the excess sweat. Harry thinks it's sweet, the way he is so nervous to marry Perrie.

He shifts in his seat, the plastic squeaking quietly underneath him, as he moves closer to Louis.

"Do you wish we had a proper wedding?" Harry whispers, heart clenching as Perrie gets to the end, reaching out for Zayn's clammy hands.

"No," Louis says quickly. Harry blinks and tries to not let it bother him. He gets why, of course. "I mean, it'd kind of be like a waste. And as we all know, you and I don't do things by halves. If we had a proper ceremony, we would have had to invite, like, four hundred people."

"Yeah, I totally understand. But it is sort of gorgeous, innit? Everyone here loves these people so much, they're happy to bear witness to this. Pretty cool." Harry leans in a little closer, nudging Louis' shoulder with his own.

"Yeah," Louis breathes, turning slightly to glance over at Harry. "I mean, if people did friendship-weddings, we'd totally have that."

Harry smiles into his hand.

"Right. That should be a thing, though. Celebrating friendship. Romance is fleeting, but mates are forever type business."

"And they say romance is dead," Louis laughs, turning back to watch the ceremony. 

It's hard for Harry to see perfectly; they are sat towards the back of the space. The sun had decided to make an appearance for the day which is wonderful for Zayn and Perrie, but less so for Harry, who is, again, sweating in his suit.

"But think about it," Harry whispers, not letting go of the topic quite yet. "People break up and get divorced all the time. Sometimes they stay together just for children. But with friendships, you choose to be friends every day. You don't stay friends with someone because they have a child. You stay friends with someone because you want to. I think that's awesome."

Louis smiles down at his lap. 

Then he looks back over at Harry, and they smile at each other like there's not a wedding happening in front of them. Louis nudges Harry's shoulder just like Harry had done to him.

"Thanks for picking me, then."

Harry forces himself to turn back to the ceremony, lean around the man in front of him to get a view of Perrie's grinning face. 

Everyone moves inside after the ceremony. Harry isn't surprised to see that Zayn and Perrie have sat them with a bunch of mates from Zayn and Louis' uni OTC group, as well as nearby a few of their mates from Sandhurst. Louis is effortlessly popular, people slapping him on the back wherever he goes.

Harry makes polite conversation, catching up with the blokes he hasn't spoken with in over a year. Smith's apparently gone and snagged himself a bird, which Harry finds surprising, as Smith had always struck him as a bit of a jerk. The kind that makes idiotic women-in-kitchen jokes. Jones apparently met another soldier at a visit to a base, and he's been pursuing her for a few months now.

"Styles, you know we wouldn't have cared if you had told us," Jones says to Harry, buttering a roll.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

Jones gestures to Louis, whose back is turned towards them as he chats with some people the next table over.

"We've never had a problem with Louis' sexuality. Or yours. We wouldn't have cared if you told us you two were, y'know..." 

"...together?" Harry finishes, filling in the words that Jones seems unable to get out.

Jones nods.

"Oh," Harry says. "Well, we weren't, though. So there wasn't anything to tell."

"You're _married_ ," Jones points out.

Harry smiles despite himself, just at hearing the absurdity in Jones' voice. "Yeah. That was sudden. But I swear, we weren't keeping secrets or anything like that. We weren't together in uni. It all happened right before Lou went off to Sandhurst."

Jones looks appeased by that. "Not that any of us were surprised, mind you."

Harry laughs again, and rolls his eyes.

Louis, having heard Harry's laugh, tunes back into the conversation at the table. "What's so funny?" he asks Harry, leaning in.

Harry ignores him and turns back to Jones. "We've been hearing that a lot."

After dinner, Harry and Louis stand shoulder to shoulder at the long table, a series of empty wine bottles staring at them, counting from 1 to 10, then in intervals of 5. 

"'Write a letter and Perrie and Zayn will read it on the corresponding anniversary,'" Louis reads. "Which one are you doing?"

Harry looks it over, dragging his finger along the parchment on the table.

"Maybe first," Harry thinks. He and Zayn aren't as close as Louis and Zayn. He would hate to write a letter for fifteen years from now only to have Zayn and Perrie open it up and think 'Harry who?'

Louis looks thoughtful at that. "Well, maybe I'll do the fifth anniversary, then."

Harry picks up one of the pens on the table and twirls it in his fingers, mind whirling. He looks up at Louis from where he's hunched over. 

"What if they're not together on their anniversary?" he asks.

Louis' face falls a little. "Then I'm sure Pezza will wait. She's a patient one. Don't be such a downer," Louis says, picking up his own pen.

Harry looks down at the empty page, wondering what to write. It'd all be easier if he understood true love. As it was, his relationships didn't tend to last long, and he hasn't gotten laid in well over a year, due to the fact that he fake-married his best mate. So no, Harry doesn't think he's the best person to be offering advice in the romance department.

_Zayn and Perrie,_

It's a good start, he reckons. He glances out of the corner of his eye to see Louis writing furiously.

_I suppose it's only fitting that I get to write you a note since Zayn got to be the only witness at me & Lou's wedding. All I can really say is that anyone with any sense can see that you two love each other and deserve each other. I hope you take care of each other, and remember that even when things get hard, it's worth it._

He chews on the inside of his cheek.

_Tell the other you love them whenever you can. If it's off deployment, every day. If it's during missions, with every note and call. Remember to smile and breathe and to cherish the little things you know about each other-- like your orders when you get a Chinese, or how you take your tea._

He thinks to what he had whispered to Louis earlier, how their friendship was something special and worth celebrating, and deserved some cake and champagne and whatnot. 

_I hope a year-on, you're still choosing each other. Every day._

_Love,  
Harry_

He looks down at it for a moment before flourishing a quick _Styles_ to the end of it. Then a heart. Then he puts the pen down before he can do anything further, like drawing a little cartoon Zayn and Perrie on it. He rolls the paper up tightly and feeds it into the neck of the wine bottle labelled 'one'. 

"Your wrist is going to cramp with that novel you're writing," Harry says. Louis smirks but doesn't get distracted, and Harry can tell he's wrapping it up and signing it.

"You're trying to stifle my deep philosophical thoughts and advice," Louis says as he rolls up his own parchment.

"Like either of us are really in any place to be giving marriage counselling," Harry laughs. "C'mon. I think they're cutting the cake and I don't want to get stuck with a shit piece."

Louis laughs and reaches out to Harry, leaning in and pecking him on the forehead. Louis turns away before Harry has a chance to do or say much at all, and he flounces back to their table while Harry just stands there, forehead crinkled and hands itching.

\---

Harry and Louis sit on the roof of the car as they wait for the ferry to arrive. The car is stuffed to the brim with their clothes and books and instruments. It feels a lot like when they moved from Bristol back to Holmes Chapel, but now it feels a bit more permanent, even if it's not.

Harry takes another bite from the cucumber and cheese sandwich, the soft goat cheese sharp on his tongue. Next to him, Louis sips a Red Bull, already back in his Army uniform. 

Harry's phone buzzes with a call from Anne, and Harry puts the sandwich back on top of the hot metal of the car before he can answer.

"Hi mum," he says, shooting Louis a look. Louis smiles, because his phone had been buzzing nonstop as well, texts from his mum asking about their drive. It had only taken about two hours to get to the coast, but he might have thought it was days by the way their mums worried.

"Harry, I just found your hoodie behind the sofa, love."

"Oh, okay," Harry mumbles, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Mail it to the address at some point. Or hold on to it until our next visit."

"I think you should just turn around and come get it. It's that purple one with the funky neck you love so much."

Harry groans, massaging his temple with his spare hand. "Mum, we're already at the port waiting for the ferry. Besides, I haven't worn that thing in about five years. You must have found it some place other than behind the sofa."

"Are you sure you don't want to come get it?" she asks again.

"I'm sure," Harry answers. "Anything we don't have at this point can be replaced."

Anne sighs. "Okay. Safe travels. Don't forget to call before you go to sleep tonight."

Harry smirks at Louis. "I'm sure I'll be talking to you before that point, mum. Okay. Love you."

He hangs up and shifts so he can slide the phone back into his pocket. 

He watches the ferry slowly crawl into the dock before they decide it's best to get back in the car and prepare to park it on board. When they finally get their spot claimed on the ship, they climb the steps back out onto the deck and find a couple of seats together.

They don't even feel the need to talk much, just sitting together, soaking in the vitamin D and listening to the song of the seagulls. Harry tilts his head back and closes his eyes, letting it all surround him. Occasionally he hears Louis take a slurp from his can.

It hits him once they dock, actually, that they're in Ireland.

Getting out of Dublin has Louis stressed, so much so that Harry forces him to pull over so they can switch spots for the last two hours.

Only once they enter Northern Ireland do the nerves start back up in his stomach. The whole day he's been so preoccupied with the move-- double checking that they've packed everything they need, kissing the girls and the babies enough times to last him a few months, making sure they get to the harbour in time for the ferry-- that he hasn't let his worries about _living somewhere else_ affect him. 

But now, they're approaching the new part of their life, and Harry's going to have to adapt to that. He's going to have to meet new people. New people that he's going to have to get to know, who will make snap judgements about him, who may have opinions that contradict severely with his own. 

He taps his hand restlessly on the steering wheel, his ring clinking against it. He glances over at Louis who has actually nodded off, head pressed against the window and mouth wide open, catching flies. 

Harry questions his life choices sometimes. 

"Take the exit onto M3 toward City Airport," his phone chirps. Harry checks behind him before he moves into the lane to take the exit. 

The movement and the noise are enough to stir Louis from his sleep. He sits up slowly, rubbing his forehead where it had pressed against the glass. 

"Are we almost there?" he asks.

Harry nods without taking his eyes off the road. 

"In 600 meters, turn right onto Sullivan Place," his GPS says.

With a bend in the road, much of the coast comes into view.

"That's not bad to look at," Louis murmurs. 

"Quite picturesque," Harry agrees.

Louis laughs and looks over at him. "Picturesque? When did you swallow a dictionary?"

"I've always been clever, doofus," Harry responds, reaching out without taking his eyes off the road to pinch at Louis.

They drive right through what Harry assumes to be the center of town, small shops lining the street. It's completely different from Bristol, he reasons. It doesn't have the edge that Bristol always seemed to have. Holywood seems to be a bit softer, more like a postcard.

He's not sure he would have chosen this town to move to if it had been up to him. At this rate, he's pretty sure he'll be celibate until he and Louis divorce.

That being said, it is cute. 

"That's it?" Louis asks, as they turn again and drive down another road, this one following what seems to be a long park. Harry might have to take his runs around here. "Not much to it, is there?"

"What have we done?" Harry laughs, as they drive down a road that looks to be little more than cement surrounded by flat land and a few trees scattered throughout. 

"Aha," Louis says, sitting up more and pointing straight ahead. It's a sign proclaiming that they need to turn right for Palace Barracks, which Harry didn't need to know, since his phone was doing the directing for him.

After their turn, Harry can spot the Barracks up ahead, the large buildings looming. It reminds him that this is home now-- not some shitty flat he couldn't afford in Bristol, and not an undecorated place above his old headmaster in a village that was too small-- this. 

The presence of the fences unnerves Harry, if he's being honest. He feels like he should be comforted by the security, like how they have to show their ID cards when they approach the headquarters, but really, it just reminds Harry of how safe the rest of his life has been.

They pop into the headquarters to get their keys and to make sure everything is squared away. Harry feels completely out of place as he follows Louis into the building. He keeps adjusting his visitor badge wondering if it's entirely necessary. He's pretty sure everyone can tell he's a visitor. 

"Officer Tomlinson," an older gentleman calls out. Louis smiles warmly and gives him a firm handshake, although the way the older man claps him on the shoulder as well tells Harry that they know each other.

"Captain, this is my partner, Harry Styles. Harry, this is Captain McDonald." Harry smiles and reaches out, and hopes his shake is firm enough, his hand dry enough.

"We've been driving and packing all day, so we're really just picking up keys and then unloading," Louis breezes on.

McDonald nods and beckons them over, double checking that everything is clear for them to move in.

"I think you'll find MQ is pretty good here. Solid. Once you both settle in and find the local places you like, it'll feel like home. Great community here. Mr. Styles, I'd definitely encourage you to take advantage of all the partner benefits here."

Harry nods, slightly terrified by the man. He has a large presence, and Harry hasn't been called Mr. Styles since secondary school. Suddenly, he feels like he's back to being sixteen, much less twenty-two. 

When they get back to the car, Harry slides back into the driver's seat. 

"How long do you think until I don't feel the urge to brick myself in front of those men?"

Louis laughs.

"Well, let me know when that is, since I'm not there yet," he says, twirling the sets of keys around his finger.

When they pull up to the house listed, Harry can't help the grin on his face. It's nothing glamourous-- not freestanding or with tons of land, but it's sure better than what they've had so far in adulthood.

It's a small terrace house, entirely fronted with bricks. There are a few windows facing the street, and a small patch of grass that may or may not be a garden.

They leave the car parked in front of the house as they move to go check out the space. 

"You should carry me," Louis says, as he jiggles the key into the lock. "It's only fair."

Harry rolls his eyes, and gives Louis a light shove, chuckling. Louis bumps into the white-painted door, finally unlocking it with a smile and letting it swing open.

The space is small-- there's no denying that-- but walking through it makes Harry feel oddly buoyant. 

The entryway is narrow, of course, with the stairway heading up to their left. Louis heads upstairs, the steps groaning underneath his feet, while Harry checks out the ground level. The cupboard under the stairs is spacious and relatively free of spiders.

Everything's a bright white, almost like they've repainted it all. Harry has visions for the walls; he sees them as dark reds and fun pops of colour. Not permanent, he reminds himself, even though he already feels more attached to this flat than the one in Holmes Chapel. They haven't even properly entered yet.

The kitchen is a decent size-- far better than he had been expecting, honestly. He opens the cabinets, listening as they thunk noisily against each other. He steps over to the stove and turns the hob on. The light ignites and flickers up. Good. The gas is already set up, so they don't have to wait for hot water. 

The furnishings that came with the place aren't anything special, but at this rate, anything that would get Harry off his feet would be good. He flops back onto the sofa, feeling the springs shift under his back as his feet dangle off the other end. 

He's fucking tired, and the last thing he wants to do is move _more_.

He hears the rhythmic thump of Louis galloping down the steps, and when he turns the corner in their narrow stairway, they meet each other's eyes and light up. Well, Harry only assumes he lights up. He definitely sees it from Louis.

Louis takes a running leap on top of him, cackling as Harry squeals and then groans.

"Ugh. Get off, get off," Harry wheezes, laughter bubbling out him while he pushes at Louis' shoulder.

Louis sits up, and scootches back on the sofa, so he's sitting on Harry's legs instead of his bladder.

"Sick," Harry says.

"Yeah, it's nice," Louis agrees. "Furnishing's a bit..."

"Old?" Harry supplies.

Louis laughs and nods. "Old's the right word for it."

"I think we should put the TV over there," Harry says, gesturing to the wall across from the sofa. The living room actually had a fireplace, which Harry thought was well posh, but at the same time, he thought it might clash aesthetically with the telly. 

"Whatever you want, babe," Louis says, patting Harry's ankle. For a moment, it feels like Harry's observing this all from someone else. It seems, just for that moment, that they are a married couple, and Louis an agreeable husband.

"Okay," Harry groans, trying to steel himself up for another round of moving boxes. At least this time would bring a longer stay. "Can we get pizza after, though? I'm getting a bit peckish and I'm not heading to the store to get food tonight."

Louis nods. "Absolutely agreed."

Louis jumps off Harry's legs, apparently renewed with energy. He holds out his hand and waits for Harry to latch on. The promise of pizza helps motivate Harry, so he lets himself be dragged for a moment. Louis' hand is sweaty in his.

Harry trudges back out to the car to start unloading what has boiled down to their two lives. Between the move from Bristol to Holmes Chapel and then from Holmes Chapel to here, they've kept narrowing down their material possessions. Now, Louis owns half the clothes and Harry half the books as they had prior. 

While he hauls the first box of dishes out, he sends a quick thank you to whomever that their MQs came furnished. They'd both be miserable trying to move about chairs and sofas and their lumpy mattress. Those kinds of things were better off staying at Louis' mum's house... or the charity shop.

He carefully places that box on the table that's set up with unsturdy legs, and heads back out before he loses steam. 

Louis stands by the car door, t-shirt sleeves pushed up so they bunch around his shoulders and pits. He's a bit sweaty-- it's not too warm, still early May, but the lifting certainly heats things up.

"Help me with the tv," Louis says, tacking on a 'please' after. Harry grins lopsided and moves to help him pull it out of the side. They set it on the pavement for a moment while Harry tries to prevent all of the rest of their crap from cascading out the open door.

It's easy with the two of them, even though either of them could have handled it on their own. Louis stays inside to plug it in-- very important-- while Harry moves back out to the car, eager to get everything inside before the sun starts to go down. There's still time, but Harry feels like he and Lou are going to hit a slump sometime soon.

His next step, he decides, is taking the instruments inside. He suspects that no one's about to come by and steal their shit out of their open car doors, but even so, he'd feel better if his guitar and Louis' keyboard were inside and safe.

Their mums had thought they were silly for bringing them along. They had ditched so much along the way, but neither of them wanted to leave behind their instruments. Even if Louis would have to go long stretches without his keyboard-- as he had when he was at Sandhurst-- it was still a part of him. Of them. It was reminiscent of summer days dicking around in Harry's bedroom, pretending that they were skilled. It was penned lyrics in a bent notebook, finding rhymes for boobs. Well, then it was other stuff, but their instruments meant something to both of them.

Harry cradles the keyboard as best he can, waddling up the walkway with it. A car idles by on the street, the passenger shouting out a 'hello!' as they roll. Harry pauses and blinks. Had he just been welcomed by the neighbours? He smirks to himself-- it was all so domestic, and only at 22.

When he gets back to the car, he reaches for his guitar, moving to strap it around his back. He furrows his brow as he looks at it. A string had snapped on their journey, dangling there like a limp noodle. Harry eyes the guitar case propped against the back of the seat. He had gambled and made the choice to put other stuff that needed a home in his case and let the guitar roam free. That had clearly been a mistake.

He swings the guitar onto his back, letting the broken string hang down and tickle the back of his arm.

When he gets back inside, he drops the bin of books in his arms down to the ground with a large whack. 

"Look at my fucking guitar," he sighs, turning and showing his broken string to Louis.

Harry turns back around to see Louis with a look that was mix between a grimace and a knowing look.

"Don't," Harry says, lifting it over his head and standing it against the wall.

"I'm not. I'm just saying, you can't be surprised a string broke if you left it to knock about in the back of the car."

Harry scrunches his face up to show his displeasure.

"They're just strings," Louis points out.

"I don't know where to get new ones," Harry whines.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow," Louis assures him. They move quickly to unload everything, eventually just getting it in the door and dumping bins along the entryway. Definitely not the safest, but at least they were in.

Harry crosses his legs and taps away at his phone, trying to find the number for the nearest pizza place.

Harry calls in the order quickly, while Louis bustles around him, dragging the box of photo frames and posters to the living room area. Harry moves his feet to accommodate Louis' path.

"You want to go get the pizza while I set up the bed?" Louis asks, scratching at his head. His hair has grown back a little bit since the Passing Parade, but it's all about to be shaven down again. Harry takes a moment to mourn Louis' longer hair, the way it used to flip up when it grazed his shoulders.

Harry nods happily, patting his wallet to make sure it's still there.

He rolls the windows down part of the way when he gets back to the car. The rain has started again, but it's still light enough that it's not whipping into the car. 

He sets his GPS for the coordinates of the pizza place. They probably could have had delivery, but Harry's thankful for the few moments alone with his thoughts. 

It hits him in fits and bursts what they're doing. What they have been doing, really. But when he thinks about it, pretending to be in love with someone and pretending to be married to them is much easier when you're in a safe and familiar place. 

Harry was never one to play too close to the rules anyway.

Passing back through high street, Harry's eyes are instantly drawn to a shop with a purple front to it. He's not sure why he didn't see it the first time through the town-- maybe because he was so overwhelmed by it all. But the purple shop has what looks to be a metal G-clef hanging down in front of its doorway, so Harry thinks it might be a music shop.

He quickly pulls over and finds a place to park. The pizza can wait under the heating lamp for another minute.

He holds his hands over his head like it'll protect him from the drizzle as he crosses the street. The lights are on, but it seems empty, like it's about to close for the evening.

Harry glances at the paper sign taped from the inside.

_The Music Room. Hours: M-F 10:00 AM - 8:00 PM SATURDAY 12 PM-6 PM CLOSED SUNDAYS._

Harry sneaks a peek at his watch. Just in time, he breathes as he pushes his way inside, the bell announcing his arrival.

He thinks that if he can just get some strings and play his guitar tonight, he'll feel better, more settled. 

"Hey," greets the guy behind the counter. "Just as a warning, there's a few minutes until closing."

"Thanks," Harry replies, shaking out his hair. "Just having a string emergency."

The other guy laughs loudly and freely, like Harry had said something truly amusing. 

"Not sure there's anything about strings that constitute an emergency," he says. "Though I guess it'd be bad for business saying that."

"I won't tell," Harry says as he moves to the wall where he notices all of the packets, their different colours jumping out at him. He scans until he sees his normal brand, the purple cover calling to him. He grabs a couple of packs-- just in case-- and moves back to the till.

He peers around the shop some more. His eyes glaze over the guitars, standing and shiny and calling his name, and the different straps, much nicer and colourful than his own worn out and faded one.

He looks at the bulletin board behind him, eyes instantly drawn to the concerts and the local music release parties advertised. Then, on a smaller piece of plain white paper, thick black Sharpie announces: We're hiring. Please inquire.

"Nice place," Harry comments as the guy rings his packs up. 

"First time in?" he asks. "Haven't seen you in here before."

"Yeah," Harry answers. "Just moved here. Like, two hours ago."

The other boy laughs again, his whole face lighting up. 

"Sick, welcome, then. You in the Army?"

Harry smirks, knowing how much of the town the Army must envelop. He shrugs, not sure how to respond.

"Well. My husband is... in the Army," he clarifies. Even after a year, the word husband feels heavy on his tongue.

"Cool," the other guy says, and Harry narrows his eyes, trying to see if he's being genuine. Harry's always been a bit suspicious, but this other bloke seems like he really does believe that Harry's husband might be cool. He would be, of course, sadly mistaken.

Harry's stomach grumbles, reminding him both of his pizza waiting to be picked up and paid for, as well as his best mate settling into their new flat. Their new domestic love nest, completely devoid of sex. Completely.

"Do you own this place?" Harry asks, noticing the bloke's youthfulness. He wouldn't peg that kind of carefree spirit to be a business owner.

"No, no, it's me uncle's," he explains, handing Harry back his credit card. 

"You're looking for help?" Harry asks, pointing to the plain piece of paper sign.

"Yeah," said the other guy, smiling again.

"Do you have an application?" Harry asks. "I used to work in a record shop back home. Well, back in England. And I can play, obviously. Might be of some use."

"Sick," he says again. "No there's no application, really. Not a lot of people scrambling for it. Just some hours to help around. I know it's empty now, but there's a few people in and out during the week and on Saturday. We do lessons, too. What's your name?"

The boy grabs a pen and a stack of post-it notes, and Harry feels like he's in a dream. Or someone else's life. He's never had a job application go quite like this.

"Harry Styles," Harry says automatically, spelling out his last name. "Living just up the way. Let me give you my mobile number and email."

"Harry, mate," the other boy laughs, leaning across the counter to clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm glad you had that string emergency. I've got a good feeling about you."

Harry grins, partly at the absurdity of it all. He's never met this bloke before, but Harry has a hard time picturing this guy having bad feelings about anything. Since Harry walked in the store, he's been like a beam of positivity.

"Cheers, mate," Harry laughs. "I didn't catch your name?"

The boy grins, removing his hand from Harry's shoulder just to hold it out to offer a handshake.

"The name's Niall," he says simply. 

Harry grins and returns the handshake, holding his ridiculous guitar strings in his other hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Despite the fact that their charade has gone on for over a year now, it dawns on Harry very quickly that they haven't done much living together. Louis' breaks from Sandhurst were only a couple weeks at a time, and they were so packed with seeing their families that they didn't have any time to just unwind and be themselves. And even in the time post-Passing, they were preoccupied with getting everything put in boxes and pacifying their parents, that it seems like ages since they were really just alone together.

Harry realises why they had never lived together during uni. There was more to it than just the fact that they had differing budgets. 

"I'm fairly sure that bowl has been there for about four days," Harry says. The bowl in question, a chipped white porcelain thing, stares at him from its place in the sink. Harry could easily wash it himself. It would take all of a minute. However, Harry knows that if he were to start the process of doing Louis' dishes for him, it would all go downhill from there. Then Louis might think it's okay to leave dirty dishes out for days and days because Harry will take care of it.

Harry doesn't mind taking care of people-- especially Louis-- but he doesn't want to be used.

"Isn't it yours, though?" Louis asks. He sits cross-legged in the chair, dressed just in joggers.

"No," Harry responds, irritation sinking through. "If it were mine, I would have done it right away. This is obviously yours from when you ate that bowl of cereal four days ago."

"Okay," Louis says, but makes no move to get up and clean the dish. Harry huffs and leaves the kitchen, heading up the stairs to find a little distance. He goes into the bedroom, shutting the door until it clicks quietly. He doesn't want Louis to think he's having a strop, even if that's exactly what he's doing.

He lies back on the bed, scrolling through facebook on his phone. 

He hears the sink turn on downstairs, the tell-tale clinking of porcelain letting Harry know that Louis is indeed doing the dishes.

The noise stops after a few minutes, Harry settling against the pillows and trying to let the frustration seep out of his pores. 

He and Louis almost never fight, and this certainly doesn't count. But not living together has certainly helped their friendship, and now that they are going to be living together for the foreseeable next few years in between missions, they have to learn to work around each other's more miserable habits.

Harry's going to have to deal with the fact that Louis never fucking picks up his clothes off the floor, or takes a solid week to do his dishes.

Louis will have to get used to the fact that Harry will get tetchy and hide away.

It's not worth making a big deal out of it, he tells himself. The alternative-- them not sharing a flat and Harry instead being back in Holmes Chapel or Bristol-- is much less attractive than some gross dishes.

Louis knocks on the bedroom door a few minutes later.

Harry smiles to himself.

"You can come in. It is your bedroom, too."

The door opens just a crack, just enough for a sliver of Louis' face to peek through.

"Hi. I brought you something."

The door opens the rest of the way and Louis steps through, offering up a snack on a napkin. It's a piece of french bread with some melted mozzarella slathered on top of it. 

He offers it to Harry, who takes it with a grin.

"Thanks," he says, before biting into it, doing his best to catch the crumbs with the napkin before they all fall into the bed.

"Sorry for being a shit flatmate," Louis says, sitting down at the end of the bed.

"You're not a shit flatmate," Harry insists after he swallows his bite. "I'm just being ridiculous. It's not worth apologising over. I'd still much rather be here than anywhere else."

Louis smiles, visibly relieved. "Okay, good. I'd hate for you to leave so soon. I'd rather you be here, too."

Harry offers Louis a bite of the bread.

\---

Niall's laugh is completely infectious, and Harry spends his first few shifts at the music shop feeling proper funny. They don't get too much of the training done, but there's not much that Harry can't pick up as he goes. He knows how to work a till, he knows how to organise sheet music. He cleans up the studio in between lessons.

"You absolutely need to come out with us tonight, mate," Harry says as he finishes tuning the guitar before putting it back on its stand.

"Give it one more," Niall insists, pointing to the guitar. Harry listens, plucking again, and sure enough, twists the knob again.

"Nice," Niall says. "I'll definitely come around. And where you heading?" 

Harry thinks for a moment. He's still struggling with getting the name of all of the places right. "Something about Green Hills?"

"No," Niall says simply. "Not at all. I won't allow it."

Harry laughs. "Okay, where to then?"

Niall nods. "Leave it up to me," he insists.

Leaving it up to Niall leads to a shot behind the store before they head over to the pub of Niall's choosing. He texts Louis the address of the place, and as they wait for the others, Niall and Harry order more shots.

Harry spots Louis right away, walking through the door in civilian clothes, t-shirt tight against his upper arms.

Harry takes a sip from the beer Niall's placed in front of him.

Louis' eyes brighten when he notices Harry frantically waving to get their attention, and Harry watches as Louis beckons the others towards the table that Harry claimed. 

"Hi," Harry chirps when they get close enough, drawing Louis in and giving him a quick peck hello. Harry almost feels numb to those at this point. Whenever they're out in public and in front of their friends or people that know them, it's pecks hello or goodbye. It feels almost normal at this point. Harry reasons that as long as there's no tongue, and it's around other people, there's no reason to get worked up over it. Super casual.

"You," Louis starts, glancing down quickly at Harry's mouth. He must have been expecting the kiss-- it's not exactly out of the norm for them now. "Already got started."

"Guilty," Harry laughs, winking, before glancing over to Niall.

Harry greets everyone else while Louis runs off to the bar to get a round. Zayn and Perrie are joining them, of course, but Louis has also managed to wrangle Liam and Sophia, their neighbours, out as well.

"Haz, you didn't tell me I'd be the unmarried one," Niall says, taking a sip of his beer.

"Didn't think you'd mind," Harry says, distracted as Louis returns with the first half of the drinks in his hands, his own nestled dangerously in the crook of his arm.

"Let me help," Harry says to him, getting up and ignoring Niall all together.

"This is basically how it goes," he distantly hears Zayn say to Niall. "They're completely competent individuals, but as soon as they’re around each other… useless."

Harry leaves to help Louis get Liam and Sophia's drinks from the bar, even though Louis could have done it himself. When he and Louis return, however, Zayn is still talking about how obnoxious they were in uni.

"Harry hated me," Zayn says to Liam.

"Not true," Harry insists, as Louis snorts into his beer.

 _True_ , Louis mouths. Harry pokes him in the ribs.

"I have a hard time picturing you hating anyone," Niall says.

"Thank you," Harry says, casting Louis an indignant look. "Yeah, maybe, sure, I was a little awkward around Zayn for a bit--"

"Two and a half years," Zayn mutters, though he seems more amused than anything else.

"But now we're good mates! Mates living in Belfast together. Doing the double date things."

Louis shakes his head and reaches out, placing a hand on Harry's thigh. It's probably meant to make Harry stop talking, stop digging himself into an awkward hole. Instead, the heat from his palm sears through his jeans. His muscle twitches underneath, and he hopes that Louis can't feel it, can't know that he's stilled. Because if Louis notices, he'll think he's crossed a line, and he'll pull away. Harry doesn't actually want him to pull away.

He doesn't pull away. Not when Harry leans forward to mention to Liam how nice his car is, or ask how long him and Sophia have been married. Turns out that much like he and Louis, Liam and Sophia have known each other since childhood and got married right before Liam went off to bootcamp. Unlike he and Louis, Harry thinks to himself, they probably shag each other. 

Louis also doesn't move his hand when Niall knocks over another beer, and Harry quickly scoots over to lap up some of the spill with some napkins. Even with Harry leaning left and right and back and forth trying to gather napkins from other tables, Louis' hand stays put, his fingertips just digging a little bit into the denim in a way that makes the hair on the back of Harry's neck prickle. 

"How'd you end up here?" Perrie asks.

Niall, to his credit, doesn't even blink at being the outsider. The only unmarried one. The only non-Brit. The only one without the Army ties. Harry's glad he's brought in someone like Niall-- so completely unaffected by all of this. From what Harry's gathered, Army life tends to be very insular. Without realising it, people start talking in code and acronyms. It's even scarier when Harry starts to understand it.

"Well, my uncle moved up here a couple decades ago, was involved in some of the riots. Ended up staying for some reason, and opened up his shop. When I was dicking around after secondary school, he suggested I come up and help him out. And yeah, I've kinda just stayed."

"Seems like a small town for a big personality like you," Louis says. If Harry didn't know any better, he might think that Louis was acting a bit coolly towards Niall.

Then again, Louis isn't far off the mark. Niall does have a big personality-- but not in the same way that, say, Louis does. Louis walks around and commands attention. Niall doesn't command attention, but everyone just seems to be drawn to him.

Niall waves at someone across the room and smiles at Louis, unphased. "I like it here."

Looking down at his near-empty glass of beer, Harry contemplates a trip to the loo. The two shots with Niall earlier swim pleasantly in his bloodstream, and his head starts to feel a little slowed down. Then he looks down, blinking against the slow shift downward as he watches Louis' palm spread across his thigh. Harry thinks again about the bathroom, whether it's worth it to stand, whether he really needs to go or if he's going to have to piss constantly after, and he decides against it. Instead he lifts his left hand, moving slowly so not to draw attention, and he brushes it against Louis' on his thigh. He uses his pointer finger to drag along the crevices of Louis' hand, feeling the ridges of Louis' knuckles, the roughness of his skin. He chances a glance up at Louis, who is still in the middle of a conversation with Liam, but Harry notices the corner of his mouth quirk anyway.

\---

Harry slows down his jogging when he spots an open bench. He's winding down his run, now, having just done five kilometers, and decides to take a break.

He drops his foot dramatically on the bench, using it as leverage to stretch out his hamstrings. Brushing the fallen fringe off of his forehead, he then pats around his hips until he can unearth his phone. He lies back across the slab of wood, corners digging into the back of his knees and feet planted against the dirt below. 

He breathes deep a few times and then presses dial.

"Hello stranger," Gemma greets, barrelling over his introduction. "Mind if I put you on speakerphone?"

"S'fine," Harry answers. He shifts on the bench, bare back uncomfortably sticky, while Gemma gets settled.

"How's Belfast, then? Green?"

Harry smirks, looking around. It's definitely green. With a reprieve from the rain, he can appreciate the scenery, the way that everything seems to come to life, sway with energy.

"Yes. Quaint."

"Quaint?" she echoes, laughing. Her motions clearly upset the baby, since she then spends the next minute cooing and coddling on the other end. Harry listens closely, and while he misses his niece and his sister, he doesn't feel too gutted about the lack of crying.

"Now why hasn't Louis interrupted us yet? He's always swanning in," Gemma asks.

Harry blinks up into the sun, spots bursting spectacularly against the backs of his eyelids. 

"We do exist outside of each other's bubbles, you know," Harry replies indignantly.

Gemma hums, distracted.

"Sure."

"No, really," he insists, dragging his feet through the dirt, listening as it shuffles beneath him. "I just went for a run. It's stopped raining. Louis' back at the house."

"Back at the house," Gemma parrots back. "So domestic. Needed some space?"

"No, never," Harry says, but even he can hear how silly it sounds. Of course they would need space from each other. Harry's kind of gotten used to Louis being hours away when he was at Sandhurst-- it'd need to take longer than a couple of weeks to unlearn that. But even so, he is happier now than he was before.

"So who's your new best friend, then?" Gemma asks. Gemma has always asked a lot of questions, so it's no surprise that she wants to delve into his new life.

"What are you on about?" Harry asks, scratching at his forehead. "It's obviously still Louis."

Gemma sighs. "No, I mean your best friend."

Harry turns the comment over in his mind, wondering if it's a trick question.

"Still Louis," he tries again.

Gemma sighs, impatient with him.

"No, who's your Shireen, not your Mitch?" 

Shireen, of course, was Gemma's best mate from uni. She was maid of honour at Gemma and Mitch's wedding, she and Gem got together for weekly-- but more monthly since the baby-- brunches. 

"Louis is my Shireen," Harry says, "and my Mitch. He's both. That's why it's so great."

"I thought this might happen." Gemma quiets on the other end of the line, and it sounds like she's choosing her words carefully. "See, H, when you and Louis had your dramatic shotgun wedding, I felt like something was off. You and Lou have been mates for ages. He was already like a brother to me before this. But you can't have your best mate and your husband be the same person."

"What are you on about?" Harry groans. "Isn't that the whole point? Why everyone gleefully updates their facebook status to read how they can't wait to marry _their best friend_."

"That's all bullshit," Gemma sighs, "and you know it. If your best mate and your husband are the same person, who're you going to bitch about your husband to? Him?"

Harry stops fidgeting and forces himself to listen. "I get what you're saying. Lou and I are solid, though. I can tell him when he pisses me off. Did so just the other day."

"That's not what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Harry responds, trying to brush her off.

"You can't build your whole life around him, H. Especially now that you've gone and moved to another island. What are you going to do when he gets deployed? You need to have other things going on in your life besides sitting around and waiting for Louis to get home."

"I resent that," Harry scoffs, sitting up, his pale back peeling off the bench. "I have a job now."

"Another job working at a shop. What if this one goes under, too? Live on Louis' salary?"

Harry sits up, actually getting angry now. "You're crossing the line, Gem. We're partners," he says, his voice wavering on the word, "So we make sacrifices for each other."

"And he makes sacrifices for you, H?" Gemma asks, cautious.

Harry thinks to Louis' insistence on their arrangement, his need to protect. He remembers the look on Louis' face when he's cuddling his sisters and his brother. He thinks of Louis being out at work, facing every day with the kind of quiet courage that Harry admires. He makes the world bend to his whim, pushes the boundaries, carves spaces in his world for Harry. 

"Of course," Harry says softly.

Gemma sighs. "I'm sorry. I just worry about you out there. I worry about Louis heading off somewhere dangerous. I just want you to be happy."

Harry looks up at the sky, mercifully clear, and the green surrounding him like it's been painted in thick brush strokes. Louis' back at their flat keeping an eye on the stew Harry had put together.

"I guess if I need to complain about him, I can just call you. Especially now that I know you hate him." He says it with a smirk, even, the past firing lines all but forgotten. Siblings are good like that.

"Excuse you," she responds with a laugh. "I do not _hate_ Louis! I have always loved him like a brother. One that I never asked for."

"You never asked for me, either."

"Not true. I begged mum and dad and Father Christmas. Then once you were born, I was like, 'Eh.'"

"Even though I'm a broken toy you've cast aside, you sure do seem protective," Harry muses. 

"You're a bit of alright. Now tell me about this music shop again?"

Harry tucks his leg up and hooks the bottom of his trainer onto the bench.

"Well, it's on high street, I guess. It's all very picturesque. But yeah, the shop is your typical instrument shop-- does parts, repairs, and stuff like that. Niall's uncle, the bloke who owns the shop, says if I turn out okay he'll let me do some lessons. Haven't worked there long enough to prove myself yet, but fingers crossed."

"That'd be cool," Gemma muses. "I've always seen you as a bit of the tutor-slash-nurturer role."

"Yeah, there's a lot of jobs in the area for Army spouses, actually. Like, lots of forums and a pretty tight-knit community for that kind of thing. My mate Perrie also has a job writing grants for a charity. A lot of us get part-time gigs because it's hard to put down roots just to move somewhere else a couple of years later."

"So no use bringing up uni, then?" Gemma asks.

"No, _mum_ ," Harry sighs.

"Just thinking long term," Gemma says. Harry can practically visualise her placating hands up in the air back in her house.

"I know," Harry sighs, "I am, too. Just don't like all the attention."

Gemma falls silent on the other end of the line, almost like she's thinking something over. After a beat, she softly says, "Okay, bud. The little one needs lunch."

"Alright, Gem. Thanks for the tough love and everything."

"Always here to dish it," Gemma says with a laugh. "Love you."

"Love you, too," Harry says, before hanging up and slipping his phone back into his shorts.

He waits another minute, just tilting his head back and letting the gentle breeze whisper though his hair. 

Back in Holmes Chapel, everyone had been thrilled at their marriage, barring the initial disappointment by the lack of a wedding. It seemed like everything had been about HarryandLouis and how perfect they had always been for each other and how everyone had always known. It had been a bit stifling.

But here, there's a newfound sense of freedom that Harry had been longing for. It's as close to a fresh start as he had wanted-- no one that could offer an 'I told you so' to them. But it seemed to have left some tremors back home. If Gemma's worried about him, then he can only imagine how his mum must be. Or how Louis' family must feel.

In the pursuit of their own stories, they had left behind their families a bit. But then again, what twenty-somethings don't? They weren't unique in their desires for freedom, and returning to Holmes Chapel without formulated lives seemed a bit like failure to them.

Harry doesn't doubt that one day he'll be back in their village, having Sunday roast with his mum and Robin, and Gemma. He knows that once Louis gets his fill of war and knighthood, he'll also go back, and the two of them will set up their separate families, constantly circling each other. Harry can practically hear it now, the gossip meandering through the town. 

_Harry and Louis-- they once had been married to each other. Things didn't work out, obviously, but for some strange reason, they can still be friends._

Harry leaps off the bench, turns around, and jogs home.

\---

"Honey, I'm home," he calls out as he enters the house. 

"Harry!" Perrie calls out from the living room.

Harry blinks in surprise, toeing his trainers off without untying them. He pads into the living room to see Perrie, Zayn, and Liam sitting there, with no sign of Louis to be had.

"You're all early," he muses. "Where's Louis?"

The three of them smirk at each other before Zayn takes pity on him. "Louis forgot to pick up the bread that you asked him to get earlier. So he ran down to the shop, hoping he'd get back before you so you wouldn't get angry."

Harry laughs out loud at that. He hadn't noticed that the car was missing, actually, had been too focused on getting inside.

"Shit, I should make him think I'm proper ticked at him."

He snags a bottle of beer out of the fridge and then goes back to join the others. He sinks down onto their recently vacuumed carpet. 

Liam's talking about his marital problems-- it's only been a year and he doesn't know if it's going to work. Harry's nodding sympathetically, listening and wishing he knew what to say. 

"Do you think we can save it?" Liam asks, his eyes as wide as Harry's ever seen them. Harry looks over at Zayn and Perrie, both with soft and sad expressions. 

Harry turns back to Liam only to notice Liam's making eye contact with him, like he's specifically looking for Harry's opinion.

If only Harry knew anything about a healthy marriage. His best reference is his mum and Robin, and they're not exactly conventional.

In truth, Harry wants to say that Liam and Sophia got married too young, too soon. Considering the audience, and his and Louis' story, however, he decides that's not the best route to go.

He tries to deflect to Zayn and Perrie, but the two are mum, just nodding uselessly. They clearly think it's a sinking ship and are too polite to say anything.

"You and Louis have the best marriage I know," Liam says, beating around the bush. "I look at you two and I'm like, there's no way Sophia and I have what they do. The mutual understanding, the consideration. You've known each other forever and you still look like the other hung the moon. Sophia and I have known each other, but it's like there's nothing else to talk about now. Louis always has some kind of story for you."

Harry breathes in deeply through his nose, trying to avoid swallowing his tongue.

It makes him want to blurt out the truth. He hates to think Liam's risking his marriage-- his very real, very functional marriage-- on the basis that it's not like Harry and Louis' sham of a union. It makes Harry's gut twist uncomfortably. If only Liam knew.

"Louis and I don't have the perfect marriage," Harry says slowly, lifting the bottle carefully up to his mouth. "I feel like Zayn and Pezza have it more together than we do."

He slips the neck of the bottle between his lips and tips it back, the amber liquid distracting him from the moment.

Perrie shakes her head and sighs. "It's sweet that you say that, but I think we feel the same about you guys. I think everyone looks to each other for what's best in a relationship and in a marriage."

Liam nods while tearing at the label on his beer. "Our sex life isn't... very good...," he trails off.

Harry winces. He holds back his comment that if Liam wants to talk dry spells, then he's sure he can give him a run for it. 

Instead, he glances over quickly at Zayn and Perrie before he more tactfully says, "Me neither. Don't worry about that so much."

"Oh please," Perrie sighs from the sofa. "Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you and Louis don't shag all the time?"

Harry's eyes widen and he looks to Liam for support on this one, but Liam looks equally confused, though perhaps not as outlandish.

"Er, yeah?"

"You both just have this constant tension around you, though. Makes me think you're always sneaking off for it," she says.

"Maybe the constant tension is because they're not doing it enough," Zayn points out. There's a small smirk on his face, an effort to try and turn their conversation into something a little more lighthearted.

"Think what you want," Harry tries, "but Payno, I don't think you should look to our marriage as some kind of guide. We're really not perfect."

Harry's saved from continuing by the sound of the key entering the front door and the bang of their front door hitting the wall. Louis has a very pronounced way of entering the flat.

"Did I make it back before him?" Louis calls out. 

Harry stifles his snigger as Louis dodges into the living room to find Harry sitting on the carpet.

"Oh darn," Louis says.

Harry tries to contain his grin, but Louis' face breaks into a broad smile, and he holds the sleeve of french bread up like some kind of trophy.

Harry can't pretend to be mad at that, which also probably sort of harms his argument to Liam that he and Louis aren't the best couple ever.

Maybe everyone should consider marrying their best mate.

When Niall arrives, he brings with him another crate of beer, hustling and bumping it through the doorway. Harry thinks about the dings in the wall next to the door just in the short amount of time he and Louis have lived here.

"Niall!" everyone cheers, and it's nice to see how he's merged into the group. Harry leans back and smiles, very self-satisfied. He did that. He brought Niall in.

Zayn and Liam love Niall-- they love grilling him about local haunts, they love hearing his stories from when he was a kid. And in turn, Niall thinks every single thing they say or do is enthralling. It's part of why Harry likes Niall so much, too. He really lifts the mood of the group. When things get a bit serious, too philosophical, Niall turns it right back around.

The only problem is that Harry's most important friend litmus tester doesn't seem to be on the same page as everyone else.

Harry can't quite figure out what's stopping Louis from being just as enamoured as everyone else. Niall is nice, laid back, funny, and always up for a laugh. All things considered, he's exactly the type of person Louis would choose to be friends with.

But something is holding him back. Harry can sense it in the way Louis removes himself-- doesn't reach over and fluff up Niall's hair, doesn't push him out of the way for the remote or a beer. He's oddly polite.

"Do Italian," Perrie asks, practically bouncing in her seat.

Niall's Italian accent is mediocre at best, but it still sends most of them reeling.

"French!" Liam insists, instantly giggling before Niall even gets going, his eyes crinkling up. Harry sighs and thinks that at least there's a temporary distraction to make Liam feel better. Besides, Liam seems to be a bit of a maudlin drunk anyway, so maybe everything is okay with his marriage after all.

"Ukrainian," Louis drawls, though Harry spots the corner of his mouth quivering with delight. 

Niall's accents are not bad. 

Zayn on the other hand, attempts an Irish accent that is so horrific, it leaves all of them in stitches, gasping for breath.

Louis practically keels over, hands on his knees in his laughter. Through his gasps, he tries to repeat Zayn's voice, the mangling of the Irish accent, but he can't come close to the magic.

Zayn doesn't laugh quite so hard, just sort of shakes in embarrassed laughter, rolling his eyes. If Harry knows anything, he knows that Louis won't just let it go. This will be one thing that Louis will bring back at any time, no matter the inconvenience. The two of them could be hiding in a bunker in a war zone, and Louis would turn to Zayn and murmur, "Zayn, we're in Ireland" in the butchered accent. 

Of course, Niall beats Louis to the punch, ribbing Zayn with how bad his accent was. Louis' laughter trails off with the rest of them, though he just sort of holds his hand on his stomach where he had just been clutching.

Louis moves to the kitchen, presumably to get another beer. The bottles are piling up at this rate, though it feels nice to host. In Bristol, they had always gone out. Different pubs for big social nights, Louis' flat for just Harry-and-Louis time. It's nice, warm, fun, to have a group in their space. 

Harry follows Louis into the kitchen, not very subtly, but then again, he wasn't trying to sneak.

"What's up with you?" Harry whispers as soon as they're tucked away.

"What?" Louis asks, defensive. "It's nothing."

"Is this about Liam's marriage shit?" Harry pushes.

Louis shakes his head and reaches into the refrigerator. 

"Is it about Niall?"

"What would I have against Niall?" Louis whispers back.

Harry shrugs and leans against the counter, the edge digging into his back. "Dunno. Just seems like you're a little cool to him."

Louis rolls his eyes and then counters, "You didn't like Zayn for like a full year and a half."

"How many times must we go over this?" Harry sighs. "Zayn is one of my best friends."

"I know," Louis winks.

"So is Niall," Harry continues.

Louis stills a bit. "I know."

"Niall is great for a laugh, and will be one of the few people in this town I'll have when you get deployed. And he doesn't expect all this military spouse stuff out of me like other people do. We're friends because we like music, and we have the same sense of humour, not because I'm married to you."

Louis sighs, placing the bottle down. "I know. And I'm glad. I'm happy you'll have someone like him when I'm gone. I guess I'm just being weird because it's supposed to be you and me against the world."

"It is you and me against the world," Harry says.

"But being best friends with Niall wouldn't bring you the complications that being best friends with me does."

"Is that what this is about?" Harry asks. "You're worried I'll replace you?"

Louis laughs. "That makes me sound insecure."

"Which we all know would _never_ happen," Harry chuckles, tilting his head. "I think it should stand that you're my best friend. You'll always be my best friend. Niall's amazing and all, and I'm glad I'll have him while you're gone, but let's be real. Niall wouldn't do what you and I have done. He probably would have sold some drugs and given me money."

"That would have been much less complicated than what we got ourselves into," Louis says.

"I like complicated," Harry says, shrugging. Harry's not sure why Louis' gotten so insecure all of a sudden, but it does help clear up why he was being standoffish to Niall. Similarly to Zayn and Louis' early friendship, Harry hadn't known where he stood. Zayn and Louis had their Army talk-- still do, clearly-- which had made Harry feel out of the loop. 

Now, Harry also has Niall, and while it doesn't come close to Harry and Louis' bond, it almost makes Louis feel a bit lost. It'd almost be comical, except Harry wants everyone in his life to love each other as much as he loves them. 

"I'm still okay with this," Harry says, slowly, hoping Louis picks up on the _this_ being their arrangement. "Are you?"

Louis nods. "Definitely."

Harry nods in response. 

"Okay," Harry says, "Then what do you say we show those guys how we jammed when we were in college?"

"Let me get the keyboard," Louis laughs before taking a long drag from his beer bottle. 

The rest of the night involves singing off-tune to Blink-182, showing off their rubbish keyboard adaptations, and feeling like they're fifteen and confused again. 

\---

"Oh come on, Harry, you know it's true," Perrie cackles, clutching her ice water.

Harry picks at his salad, pushing the berries around the plate and shrugs.

He looks up to see even Sophia agreeing, smile across her face.

"It's a bit like a light switch, innit?" Sophia says. The girls dissolve into giggles, leaving Harry feel out of the loop. Still, he feels like he should be in the know on this one, since Perrie apparently thinks so.

"Harry?" Sophia asks again, noticing Harry's look of confusion.

"Ignore him," Perrie chuckles, "He is so private about he and Louis' bedroom life."

Harry's jaw drops. "Not true," he insists, but even as the words come out of his mouth, he knows she's right. But not because he doesn't want to gossip and compare notes, just because there really isn't anything to compare. He doesn't have any insight, so he just zips his lips and listens to everyone else.

"Do you still snog?" Sophia asks, innocently enough. She takes a pointed bite off her fork.

"Uh, yeah," Harry lies in response, but even then it sounds a tad defensive.

Perrie and Sophie meet eyes and laugh into their plates.

"See, you and Louis really are mythical beasts," Perrie adds, jabbing her fork at him. "Honestly, I would kill for a good old-fashioned snog."

Harry tries to wrap his brain around this. "You and Zayn don't kiss?" Had Harry been so deeply misled about married life? Have he and Louis been making unnecessary public displays of affection this whole time?

Perrie smiles again. "I mean, yeah, we kiss, obviously. But if we're in bed or on the sofa and I go in for a kiss, just looking for a bit of a cheeky snog, and the second our lips graze over each other, that's it! It's like straight to sex. No inbetween."

Sophia nods sympathetically, like she too understands the plight of the lack of snogging.

Harry's head quirks to the side, processing all of this. Is this was his future holds for him? 

"How do you two do it?" Sophia asks, looking more serious this time. 

Harry shrugs again, this time shovelling more food into his mouth and thinking of a way to change the subject. 

\---

The Army had provided a full-size bed for the apartment, and so for the most part, the two of them can stay separate as they sleep through the night. Harry's a fairly still sleeper-- cheek smushed to the pillow, lips parted, and small puffs of air escaping through them.

There are some mornings-- like this one-- where for one reason or another, they end up intertwined. Ankle hooked around a shin, Louis scooted to Harry's side, his hair tickling Harry' chin, their forearms grazing each other. There's no real consistency to this pattern. Harry doesn't think it could even be called a pattern.

This morning, however, when Harry blinks into consciousness, his eyebrows furrow and he knows that Louis is plastered against him. Harry feels their bodies aligned-- from the coldness of Louis' feet against Harry's shin and the leg brushing over his own. Louis' hand sits on Harry's shoulderblade, so light it feels like it's hovering above the skin. 

Harry shifts, trying to tug out his arms from underneath him, but he disturbs Louis, who just grunts and nestles back into Harry.

Harry stills at that, considering. The weight of the duvet leaves them both toasty, and it's not helping the way the skin of Harry's hip feels flush with Louis' crotch pressed against it.

He has been trying to ignore that part all together.

Harry rests his head back on the pillow, and then as slowly as he can he turns his head, watching the blank wall across from him.

Harry breathes out from his nose and tries to think of something-- anything-- that isn't the fact that he hasn't had sex in a year and a half. 

Louis shuffles again, still half asleep, and Harry closes his eyes, letting pictures zip by behind his eyelids. His morning wood stirs without him wanting it to, so he tries to picture really horrific images. Dead pets. When that doesn't work, he resorts to imagining feeling-- a damp woolen blanket scratching uncomfortably against his skin.

He coughs against his fist in a subtle attempt to get Louis to wake up and scootch away from him. He considers pulling himself up and out of the covers, but he's so warm and comfortable. It'd be much better if Louis were just to back up a few inches. Then Harry could try and get his semi down in peace without the extra body heat close by.

Harry wonders if it's this hard since the last time he had sex with someone hadn't even been that good. It was this guy that he had gone on a couple dates with-- nothing special. They had decent conversations; Harry had let the other guy pay for drinks, ignoring the burning hole in his wallet from his credit cards. It had all been so procedural-- on the third date they went out, kept up pretenses, went back to his place, exchanged hand jobs, and went on their merry ways. Neither of them had even texted the other, almost like they had an unspoken agreement that it wouldn't go beyond that.

Harry, though he tries to pretend that he's above the caveman mentality, really misses sex. Sure, his masturbation schedule is up, but it's not always the same. He misses the heat of the moment, the feeling of someone panting into his mouth, the way the smallest brush of skin can send shivers down his spine.

These thoughts aren't helping his situation.

He feels the bed shift with Louis sitting up. Harry doesn't budge or crane his neck to look over, but he feels the rock of the mattress as Louis scoots away, giving Harry that much-desired space.

"You awake?" Louis croaks.

Harry cranes his neck, turning halfway on his side so that his erection isn't horribly visible. While it's probably for the best since he was getting close to humping the bed, his erection seems worse off without some kind of friction.

Harry grunts in response, willing Louis away so he can masturbate in peace. 

Harry hears Louis' bare feet hit the wooden floor, and feels the mattress lift in response as he stands. Harry waits a moment, counting down in his head to distract himself, before he turns on his back completely, eyes screwed tight.

"Feeling a little stiff, mate?" Louis asks.

Harry's stomach drops; he thought Louis had left the room.

He cracks an eye open to see Louis still standing at the foot of their bed, smiling down at him, crooked and all-knowing. Harry glances a little lower, his erection tenting their duvet. In the past, when awkward erections have happened, they've had no problems laughing it off, making a penis joke, and moving on.

Now, though, the laughter dies in Harry's chest. Maybe it's because he hasn't gotten a proper seeing-to in so long. Maybe it's because he woke up with someone wrapped around him and it reminded him of what it felt like to be wanted.

Either way, Harry doesn't feel like laughing.

His hand twitches by his side, the desire to touch himself growing. Louis' smirk makes Harry want to escalate the situation. Harry wants to prove that it's not just Louis who can rile others up-- Harry knows how to get in trouble, too.

When he shifts, the fabric drags across his dick, causing him to breathe in quickly. The hitch of breath catches Louis' attention, his eyes skyrocketing to Harry's face before dropping back down to Harry's crotch.

If Harry had felt warm earlier under the duvet, it's nothing to what he feels now. Pinned under Louis' eyes, Harry wants to shuck the duvet altogether. His skin flushes with the attention, the understanding that someone else sees his urgency.

Harry lifts his hips, watching the way Louis slowly swallows the air in his lungs. 

There could be helicopters flying right outside their windows, but Harry wouldn't notice. His attention is all on Louis. The way Louis' flush creeps up his neck and onto his ears. The way his ring fingers are longer than his middle fingers. The way his fists open and close like he isn't sure what to do with his own hands.

Harry's hand inches towards his own cock, drunk on the thought of Louis watching him. They've never mixed up like this-- before their wedding they had never even snogged. Harry had never even envisioned a world where he shot his load in front of his best mate. But things change, and Harry's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Harry locks eyes with Louis for a moment, trying to read him. Does he want Harry to get off in front of him? Does he want a better view? Does he feel uncomfortable by it all? They've been through so much, Harry has a hard time thinking Louis would feel uncomfortable with it all, but then again, this is all foreign territory. Neither of them has had a dry spell quite like this before.

Crawling at a torturous pace, Harry's hand ghosts across his pelvis, brushing over a small tuft of dark pubes before wrapping his hand around his own cock.

He doesn't do anything with it for a moment. He just holds it there, like someone holding a broken game station console, unsure of whether or not to use it.

Louis' eyes look impossibly wide, and he blinks once, twice rapidly, and steps back, breaking their trance and leaving Harry with a loose fist around himself.

"Don't leave any jizz on the bed, babe," Louis says, the words rushing out of him like they're running a race. Louis spins on his heel and brushes through the bedroom door, naked except for yesterday's pants.

Seems like a no, then.

Harry squeezes the shaft lightly, just enough to keep himself interested. He breathes again, banning the thoughts of dead animals and textures and focusing on the good. Louis' eyes beaming into his. The warmth of a body next to him. The way Louis' hips shifted and pressed Louis' dick against him.

Five years is an awful long time, he considers for the first time in a while. He definitely couldn't go for another few years like this. He considers trying to find someone, but it feels too weird with Louis around all the time. Besides, the best part about their arrangement is that the only person he really even wants to hang out with, other than the rest of the gang, is Louis. So it gets tabled again until later.

In the mean time, however, he thinks about bony ankles and the raw feeling of skin on skin and doesn't dwell on it too much.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, friends. :) I appreciate your patience through the holidays. And now, things are about to get real.

When Louis went off for semesters at Sandhurst, saying goodbye had sucked, definitely, but Harry was able to get his head out of his arse. He lived his life, even if his life was basically surrounded by Louis’ world and Louis’ family every day.

He's not sure it's going to be that easy with Louis' upcoming deployment.

Six months in Kenya. 

In fact, the only thing keeping Jay and Harry’s heads on straight is the fact that Kenya isn't Afghanistan. 

When Louis gets his orders, it's no surprise to everyone else in the area, at least. Word spreads through the Army houses fast, but it's not the part of their lives in Ireland that they're worried about.

"This is exactly the phone call I didn't want to make," Louis says, sitting on their sofa, juggling his phone with his hands. 

Harry nods, perched on the arm of the sofa, his sock-clad feet digging beneath Louis, who is also still in uniform. The camouflage makes it all a bit more real.

Harry stops him before he breaks the phone and punches in Jay's number before thrusting it back at Louis. 

Louis pouts, but he hears his mum's voice over the other end, and so he lifts the phone to his ear.

"Hi mum," he greets.

It seems like they talk about nothing at first, Jay filling him in on what she's making for supper and Fizzy's trouble-making boyfriend. Harry nudges Louis with his foot again to get his message across.

"Mum, I do have something important," he starts. He takes a shaky breath. "I got my deployment orders."

Harry hears Louis' mum still on the other line, pictures her gripping the countertop with nerves. They all knew this day was coming-- has been since Louis decided joining the Army.

"It's not as bad as you might think," Louis says, calmly. "It'll be in Kenya."

"Kenya," Louis' mum echoes. "What on earth will you be doing there?"

"Some training, some defence work," Louis sighs. "But it could be worse. A few others are heading out to Sierra Leone. So who knows what will happen?"

Jay sighs a bit. "Well, I'm glad you called me. First deployment, oh boy."

"I'll call you soon, okay? Give everyone my love. Harry says hello."

Harry smirks at the mention so late in the conversation.

When Louis hangs up he looks up at Harry and shrugs uselessly.

"So there's that," he says.

"I'm kind of glad that your first deployment with you as an officer and all is going to be something more strategic, y'know? Gives you more of a chance to settle into your leadership without thinking someone's going to shoot you at all times, yeah?"

Louis sighs again. "I know you're right. I feel bad even wishing I was going somewhere more dangerous. This regiment used to go to Afghanistan. Really dangerous, shit. But also really important. I don't feel like my role is, like, critical."

"Hey," Harry says, dropping down into the seat. "It's super important. Didn't you say earlier that the training in Kenya is helping people who lost limbs from mines? I know I heard you say that. I was listening. And that sounds super fucking important to me."

Louis smiles a bit.

"I know you think you have to be out there dismantling the mines first and saving children from disease or stopping someone from blowing themselves up, but there's so much else you can do. You're going to be such a great officer for these soldiers."

Harry feels his heart ache a little, the thought of Louis that far away. Would Louis be in populated Nairobi, or would he be further out, watching giraffes and lions roam? Harry pictures him surrounded by blue sky and palm trees, but Harry's mental image crumbles when he remembers Louis will be clad in heavy layers and clunking boots. Not the little Speedo swimsuit Harry had teased him about way back when they were packing Louis up for Sandhurst.

\---

Harry can't help but press himself to Louis' side all night while they're at the pub. Louis is leaving-- proper leaving for six months-- to go do Army stuff. 

While Harry knew this day would happen, he wasn't exactly keen on it happening right now. 

Harry's so upset, he has a hard time shaking himself to remember that it's not just Louis that's deploying. Both Zayn and Liam are heading out as well-- the whole regiment, really. The blocks of families near their flat and the excited faces in pubs on Friday evenings will be halved, everyone just... leaving.

It's not something Harry ever thought about before. Back when they lived in Bristol, Harry had felt like Louis was moving on without him. Harry didn't have anything going on, and Louis was accepted into his elite training programme. And while according to Gemma, Harry still doesn't have much going on, he feels like something is close. He doesn't feel like he's suffocating here, which is a perk. 

But he still worries that Louis is going to move on without him.

Granted, their legal bond makes that a little bit harder, but probably not impossible.

He and Perrie keep meeting eyes in the pub, both unsure what to say to the other, but still understanding. Sophia and Liam are tucked away, deep in conversation. And all around them, buzzing with energy are people he's gotten to know. This time tomorrow, most of them will be on their way to east Africa. 

It helps Harry feel less crazy when Louis tightens his grip on his shoulder, hauls him even closer. Drinking probably isn't the best way to handle the night-before-deployment feelings, but everyone else seems to be doing fine. Louis feeds Harry beer-- laughing as Harry sputters and it dribbles down his chin.

"Bastard," Harry mumbles.

"You're going to miss me," Louis sing-songs. Harry sways into Louis a bit more, nodding, his hair tickling the sides of Louis' face.

"I am," Harry admits.

"I'll miss you too," Louis says back, soft and barely audible over the conversations around them. "But you already knew that."

"This feels worse than when you went off to Sandhurst," Harry mumbles.

"Yes, well. It is, isn't it? But I'll have my R&R in a couple months and then finish off the deployment, and then be back for a few more. I mean, think about what it would be like if we weren't married."

"True," Harry concedes, eyes drifting down to Louis neck. He can see the ridges of the chain underneath Louis' t-shirt. He flashes back to Louis’ flat in Bristol, dropping the paper plane necklace ceremoniously over Louis’ head, their eyes crinkled up in amusement. 

He's not sure what he'd be doing if he and Louis hadn't gone through with their half-baked plan. Would he be in Bristol? Would he have found another retail job and new flat, or would he have gone back to Holmes Chapel anyway? 

All in all, Holywood has provided him with some new mates-- ones that seem to appreciate him as more than someone who comes as a package deal with Louis. 

And Louis is right-- missing him would be harder if he didn't still live in their space. If Harry was back in Bristol, he'd be hungrier, more exhausted, more anxious... on top of missing his best mate. So Harry has a hard time regretting it.

Couples start excusing themselves from the pub fairly early, eager to spend their last night together in solitude. Zayn and Perrie head over to give them quick goodbyes, and while they'll see each other in the morning for the formal send-off, Harry worries that there might be too much going on to get a word in. He hugs Zayn tightly, and although it might be hard to hear over others' conversations, he tries his best to get his message across.

"Don't step on a mine, you prick. I can't have one of my best mates getting into trouble."

Zayn smiles into his neck, picking up Harry's implications. He gives Zayn another squeeze before letting go and looking pointedly at Perrie, who has just finished hugging Louis. 

"I think two days of moping is fair, yeah?" she says to Harry. "Then we have to pull each other out of it."

"Sounds fair," Harry agrees, reaching over to give her a quick hug before she and Zayn leave to spend their last few precious hours together.

When Harry and Louis walk back towards their flat, silence comfortably sits between them. Harry looks down at the ground for the most part, careful not to trip. When he peeks glances, Louis is looking all over the place, trying to take in as much as possible of their village.

They enter the barracks easily enough, and while the weight of their Army life never really leaves them, it seems particularly heavy now. There's seeing Louis in a uniform every day, and then there's knowing that he's heading off for an overseas deployment. Even if it may not be a combat zone, it doesn't get much more Army than that.

Harry sorts him out with a cup of tea-- black-- once they settle in. They watch telly, and Harry very much tries to ignore the fact that all of their couple friends are having intense sex at the moment.

Harry also doesn't give Louis any shit when he leaves his empty mug on the table instead of bringing it to the sink.

When they finally settle in for bed, neither of them all that tired, Harry wastes no time in curling closer to Louis. Their bed is big enough-- they normally never have to touch, barring the awkward mornings they find that they had drifted during sleep. But times like this, and the way that Louis seems to be waiting for Harry's body warmth, make it okay.

\---

Harry's phone buzzes in his pocket as he continues to stare at the empty mug on the table.

"Hi," he answers.

"I'm just about ready," Louis says on the other line. 

"Okay, I'll be right down," Harry responds. He hangs up quickly, picking up the mug and dropping it into the sink with a clang. He'll take care of it later.

He walks down to the camp, watching others mill about, hugging each other. A few people call out to him and he waves, too focused on his imminent goodbye with Louis to stop and chat.

His bones ache with exhaustion. They've been saying goodbye for over a week now. It's been dragging on so long, Harry almost wants Louis to just leave already so Harry can stop dwelling on it. He'd rather have the metaphorical plaster pulled off.

He's developed a knack for spotting Louis even when he's surrounded by dozens of people dressed exactly like him. Louis leans against the side of the brick building where his desk is.

"Alright?" Louis asks, as Harry approaches.

"Alright," Harry nods. He reaches out to take Louis' hand. He swings their hands between them for a moment, unsure of what to say. What else is there left?

"Take care of yourself," Harry says. "Please. And let me worry about everything back here."

"Okay," Louis sighs. "Apologies in advance for my mum."

"We're acquainted."

"I'm not sure what else to say," Louis confesses. Harry suspects that’s not true. There always seems to be something they could talk about, hovering and waiting.

"Me neither," Harry agrees. It doesn’t make much sense to say anything else. There are people walking by, pretending not to look or listen. It's kind of sweet, the way that everyone keeps their heads down and gives them a respectable distance. Like an unspoken rule of deployment day.

"Just go," Harry finally says, when the waiting feels like too much. 

Louis sighs. "You're right. I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

Harry nods. When Louis leans in, he presses a firm kiss to Harry's temple. Harry breathes in the smell of Louis' uniform, freshly washed but with the scent of sweat that won't go away. Louis smells like that mint soap Harry keeps in the shower. 

"I love you," Louis says.

"I love you too," Harry echoes. He knows Louis' going off to somewhere relatively safe. Not a front-lines combat zone, as it were, but he still feels the words crawling out of throat. 

Louis squeezes his hand one last time and they set off, Harry walking back towards the flat and Louis back inside his office. Harry doesn't look back-- there really is no point.

\--- 

"So then she asks me to help her find the cat she's catsitting. And if that's not a line, I don't know what is," Niall crows, leaning over the table top. His beer sloshes a little over the top of the glass. Harry and Perrie still have further to go with theirs, taking sips with amusement as Niall goes on with his stories.

Niall is, of course, the perfect friend to pull them out of their slumps. Harry is so continuously glad that he met Niall. He reminds Harry that it's always possible to laugh at yourself and not take everything so serious.

Like right now, Harry is laughing at himself. He's laughing that a year and a half ago he was neck deep in shite and now he's married-- to Louis-- and living in a small village in Northern Ireland while Louis is off in fucking Kenya for the next six months. _Hilarious._

"You disgust me," Perrie says, staring down at Niall. Her lips quirk, so it's clear she doesn't mean it, but Harry doesn't doubt that Niall said something cheeky to earn that reaction.

"Anyway, so being the stand-up bloke I am, I agree to help her."

"So selfless," Perrie agrees, nodding with faux-sincerity.

"So I spray myself with a little cologne, flex the muscles in the mirror for a sec, and go out to meet her. She brings me over to her place, and what the hell do you know?"

"What?" Harry asks, leaning forward.

"She actually was cat-sitting. For her boss. And she did lose the cat."

"Did she ask why you smelled so different?" Perrie asks, slapping the table with laughter.

"No, and so then I felt like I had to help her!"

"Well, yeah," Harry agrees.

A moment of silence descends over the table.

"And then?" Perrie prompts, looking for the end of Niall's story.

Niall chokes on his sip of beer. "Right, sorry. So yeah, tried to lure the cat back inside. Got both of my arms scratched to shit. Good times."

"Sounds fun," Harry responds drily, exchanging a look with Perrie. 

"Well that part wasn't, no. But she did like the thing I did with my tongue later on--"

"Niall!" Perrie shouts, interrupting him, as Niall breaks into a fit of laughter.

Harry can't help but join in, shaking his head at the two of them.

\---

_Hi Louis. Hope Kenya is nice. At least the weather._

Harry's fingers type awkwardly on his keyboard, watching the words form in the screen in front of him. The fact that this plain white box, reminiscent of the internet in the 90s, is his main form of communication with Louis is quite laughable. Even handwriting a letter would feel more modern than this.

_Things here at good old Palace Barracks are the same as ever, though much emptier. The welfare office has been doing some workshops for the families, and it's been... illuminating. Apparently we'll have a shagfest when you first get back. And then a huge blow-out. So I guess prepare yourself for that? ;) Granted there's still a few more months for that!!_

_I will say that the welfare office stuff has done a good job of connecting the families. I met Atkin's daughter-- that little girl is so adorable. Apparently you're in the same battalion-- idk if you know him!_

_And work at the music shop is ace. Niall's good. His uncle is thinking of letting me do some lessons soon. Apparently with all of the soldiers heading out, the children on the barracks are taking up music to pass the time. Kind of cool, right? Niall is amazing at the guitar-- better than me by miles, but I think it's all hands on deck at the shop._

_Pezza has taken on another job at a grantwriting office. She misses Zayn quite a bit, as is to be expected. Can you give me an update on our friend Zen? Or are you writing back at all? I'm not sure how this goes. Should I wait for when you can call?_

_The fam is doing well. Gem just sent me a video of Fiona babbling with avocado mushed all over her face. I think 'Uncle Harry' will probably be said any day now... Speaking of! The twins are mobile! Watch out world! A bit wobbly, but I don't envy your mum and Dan now. Fizzy and the boyfriend broke up-- don't pretend to be sad. Lottie's uni course is going well, and the older twins are cherubs as always. I think that's about all I've got. Everyone misses you._

_Don't know what else to add! Hope to talk to you soon._

_-H .x_

\---

Harry wipes down the piano bench as Lux skips out of the practice room, Niall right behind her. Harry had popped in to watch the end of their piano lesson. Hanging back and leaning against the wall, he watched how Niall patiently directed her little fingers to the right keys and how she couldn't quite keep still, her little legs swinging back and forth off the bench. 

Niall heads back out onto the floor, covering the front while Harry gets ready for the next lesson. He actually gets to teach this one, which is kind of the highlight of his day. 

He heads back out front to meet Presley, a twelve-year-old with a mop of blonde hair, and an interest in learning the electric guitar. He's not that excited about starting with the acoustic. The boy waves to him and walks on over, dragging his feet even though he claims to be happy to learn.

Harry gets the sense that he just wants to be able to play; he doesn't actually want to learn anything. Just wants to be able to already do it.

"Do you want to start with tuning?" Harry asks, leading them over to the stools in the room. 

Presley shrugs. Tuning it is. 

Harry pulls up his tuning app while Presley digs his guitar out of his case. 

"How's your day been?" Harry asks, watching as Presley swoops the strap over his shoulders.

"Eh," Presley says. 

"What's school like here? I've been wondering."

"Weird. I don't know if it's worse than normal school. Never been."

Harry nods at that, but doesn't know how to respond. He forgets, sometimes, that some people in the Army community are real lifers. Some kids don't know anything other than base life and deployment.

Harry clears his throat. "Let's start with reviewing some chords, and then maybe I think you're ready for some scales."

Presley dutifully shows Harry the chords that he prompts, earning a satisfied nod. Presley doesn't react, however, just kind of shrugs and waits for Harry's next order.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asks, picking up his own guitar and settling in.

Presley doesn't answer at first. Harry gives him a moment of quiet before he starts plucking at his own strings. 

"Mum's stressed with dad gone. But I don't really want to talk about it. I just want to play this stupid thing."

Harry swallows, thinking about what the officers had said at the welfare office. Family situations can become very tenuous, especially if children are involved. Harry imagines it becomes even tougher as children become aware of what's happening-- why their mums and dads keep flitting in and out of their homes.

"Shhh," Harry says, reaching out to pet the guitar, "You'll hurt its feelings."

Presley does crack a smirk at that, successfully breaking the mood. "It's just a guitar."

"Oh well in that case," Harry responds, smiling goofily, "I guess you don't want to learn how to play Tom Petty."

"Did you name your guitar Tom Petty?"

\---

Whenever his phone rings, Harry never knows how to react. Usually the name or number he sees on the caller id give him some kind of emotion.

Niall or Perrie: Happiness  
Mum: Love or mild irritation  
Gemma: Love or mild irritation  
Jay or any of the baby Tommos: Warmth

But when the number is unknown, or a scramble of digits, then Harry has no idea what to feel. The first is excitement, with the possibility that it could be Louis finding a moment to call him. Then, the second feeling that sets in is anxiety, because what if it's not Louis? What if it's another officer calling to tell him that something's wrong? Do they do phone calls for that or is it only the knocks on the door that he should worry about?

So looking down at a whole string of numbers he doesn't recognise, Harry takes the plunge. 

"Hello?"

"Hazza," Louis says.

If Harry didn't know any better, Louis sounds like he could be next door, or ringing from his office. 

"Oh my gosh, hi," Harry says, settling back into the sofa and tucking his feet underneath him.

"I don't have too long, but I wanted to call. Check in and see if you've burned down our flat yet."

"Not yet," Harry says, smiling and reaching around himself to grab the throw blanket. "Did you get my letter thing?"

"I did. Thanks for that. They, like, print 'em out and deliver them. So it's like a letter, but without the handwritten, romantic element."

Harry chuckles. "Darn, that would have been better spritzed with my cologne."

There's a moment of quiet as Harry thinks of what to say. 

"What's it like there?"

Louis hums. "Fine. Warm. Though I realise I have nothing to be complaining about since we are neither in the desert nor the rainforest."

"You can still be warm," Harry reassures. 

"Kind of reminds me of Sandhurst, actually. A lot of drills, training exercises. Strategy meetings."

Harry nods.

"Are you making friends?"

That ones does earn a laugh from Louis.

"I suppose so. There are a few UN troops out here, as well. So it's an interesting mash-up of people."

"Oh that's cool," Harry says, leaning forward.

"I want to hear about Holywood, though."

"Green," Harry says. "Same as ever, just emptier. More kids in the music shop. They have started letting me teach, by the way."

"Sick," Louis says.

"Yeah, it's ace. And then the welfare office has been doing these things, kind of like workshops, kind of like mixers, that Pez, Sophia, and I have been going to."

"Has Nialler gotten himself a girlfriend yet?" Louis asks.

"No, but he's certainly in the game. You wouldn't think it, but he's quite the flirt."

"Hilarious," Louis agrees. "Meanwhile, I've got Zayn over here who won't stop griping about his lady love. The missus this, the missus that."

"Do you call me the mister?"

Louis laughs again. "Don't be ridiculous, Haz."

On the other end of the line, Harry hears someone talking to Louis. Harry's not surprised when Louis sighs. 

"I have to go," he says. "I wish we got to talk longer. I missed your dumb slow voice."

"So flattered," Harry says. "I'll write you another note soon."

"Please do! Love you, bye."

"Love you, too. Bye."

Harry hangs up the phone and places it back on the coffee table, wholly unsatisfied with that brief glimmer of Louis. He closes his eyes, and tries to picture Louis out there. Harry can see the fatigues, the scenery, the trees swaying. 

He blinks open and stands, walking over to their window. He cranes his neck to look up at the sky, dark grey and spitting out rain over the land. The pavement looks even darker, slippery, and it's hard to imagine that he and Louis exist in the same universe.

\---

"Knock, knock," Harry says, peeking into the office.

"Hi Harry, come on in," Lou says, beckoning him forward. Behind the desk and in uniform, she looks nothing like the woman that Harry is used to seeing. Even after being on the base for so long, Harry still has a hard time adjusting to seeing people in and out of civilian clothes.

"Sorry to interrupt," he starts.

"Just paperwork, Harry. You're probably doing me a favour."

Harry shuffles forward, sitting in the chair on the other side of her desk. "Quick benefit question, actually. I just didn't know how to word it in email."

Lou smiles, turning to her computer and typing in her login information. "Shoot."

"So I was hoping to go visit my mum soon, and then someone at the shop mentioned that my plane fare could be covered? I wasn't sure if that was for, like, families, or--?"

Harry pauses.

Lou smiles and nods, understanding what Harry is asking. "Yeah," she chirps. She reaches under her desk to paw at some pamphlets about spousal benefits. "I know you've seen these before, but just in case you've lost them, here. Basically, if your spouse is deployed for longer than four months, then we can sponsor travel for a visit to your family or your in-laws."

"Even if we don't have kids?" Harry asks.

Lou nods cheerfully. "Yeah. Missing home?"

Harry leans back in the chair, getting comfortable. Obviously as the welfare officer, Louise was there to make sure he got the benefits he needed, but he always forgets that she's also a part-time therapist. Harry suspects it's to make sure anyone associated with the base gets any help they need before things escalate, but Harry appreciates it. He likes talking to other people, especially Lou.

"Yeah. Holywood kind of reminds me of Holmes Chapel. Just without my family and Louis' family."

"Does it really?" Lou laughs.

"Well, only the size. Nothing else, really. We thought we were running away from small village life."

Lou smiles sympathetically. "It's funny the directions that life takes us, isn't it? I didn't plan on having a daughter so young, or being with another military man. I thought I wanted a totally different life. But fate has funny plans."

Nodding, Harry twists at his own fingers.

"So!" she says, opening a browser. "Back to the village for a spot?"

"Just a few days," Harry agrees. Any longer might drive him batty, used to the independence that Belfast has given him.

"Staying with your mum?" 

"Probably split the time between my mum's and Louis' mum's," Harry reasons. 

"Doesn't he have a large brood?" Lou asks, like she's trying to remember.

"Yeah," Harry nods. "Six siblings. That house is never quiet."

"No!" Lou gasps. "His poor mum. Having just one Tommo is bad enough."

"You're telling me," Harry laughs, feeling lighter at the thought.

\---

A little seed is planted in Harry's mind as he's giving Presley his weekly guitar lesson.

"You are killing it," Harry says, after Presley shows him how he's been practicing. His fingers pick at the strings deftly, moving with very few mistakes.

"Thanks," he says, ducking his head down, his light hair flopping over his face. For a moment, he kind of reminds Harry of a young Louis, though Louis never did take to the guitar as well.

"You've definitely been practicing," Harry says, smiling.

Presley holds the guitar closer to him, fingers splayed over its body like he's using it as a shield. 

"I guess practicing helps me forget all the other crap," he mumbles, eager to move on from the topic.

Shifting on the stool, Harry hums to himself. "I know exactly what you mean. How do you feel about learning some Clapton?"

"What's that?"

\---

"Are you really visiting the in-laws next week?" Perrie asks, nestled into their usual booth. 

Harry nods.

"How is it there?" Niall asks, settling into the booth, balancing three glasses in his hands. "I'd love to see the family that raised the Tommo."

"Well, neither of us have the most conventional families," Harry starts.

"No!" Niall and Perrie gasp in unison, both of their voices dripping with fake shock.

"I know, I know. Surprise. But Louis' family is really sweet. His mum cares a lot and his little sisters worship the ground he walks on. And Louis and Dan get on well. It's comfy."

"I think I might feel weird being at Zayn's without him, though," Perrie says. "Maybe I should be looking into this. Crap. See, you're so much better at being married."

Harry rolls his eyes, and bites back his comment for the tenth time that there's no competition, and surely, if there were, Harry and Louis would not be in the running. 

"I've known the family forever, though. It's not that weird."

Niall shakes his head, like he doesn't quite understand it all.

"Pezza, do not go at the same time as him, though. You're all clearing out on me."

"I'll never leave you, Niall," she says, barely holding back her giggle as she reaches out and places a hand on his forearm.

"Dorks," Harry mumbles, rolling his eyes and taking a slurp of his beer.

\---

In truth, visiting home is one of the best decisions he's made in a while.

His mum had picked him up at Manchester airport and had instantly cried.

"Mum, it's not like I'm the one off and deployed," he had groaned as he tried to pull away.

As soon as they step into the house, however, it's chaos. Gemma is already there with a noisy Fiona, who Harry promptly scoops up and kisses rapidly as she giggles and tries to squirm.

It feels like almost instantly that the door busts in and Daisy and Phoebe come running in.

"They didn't even knock, did they?" Fizzy asks as she ambles in behind them. Soon everyone's in, crowded around.

Harry slurps on a can of Coke as Phoebe tells him, in very precise detail, how Doris got sick and projectile vomited all over Daisy and their mum.

Harry nods very seriously at this.

He spots a familiar picture hanging on the front of the fridge. It's a snapshot of him and Louis at their MQ, sitting on their sofa and offering thumbs up to the camera. Harry can't even remember who took that picture-- it might've been Niall. All he remembers is that it was shortly after they moved in and they had sent it to their mums to appease them. Both of them had been clamouring for photos of their 'love nest'. 

Harry remembers he and Louis found it so hilarious, they had called it that for weeks.

\---

_Hi. I'm with the fam and everyone wants to say 'hi'. I know you called them a couple weeks ago, but they are very insistent! We all miss you._

_I take what I said before back. The babies are super mobile. Surprisingly hard to keep up with._

_I feel like Gemma might be pregnant again. She's staying mum, though. I think she's stopped nursing, but she's still not drinking. This is very unlike her and I'm concerned._

_My mum has a picture of our love nest on the fridge. Have yet to be to Chez Tommo, but would not be surprised if that picture is there as well._

_Robin just made a big deal at work, and so he's on top of the world. Wants to buy fancy family dinner. He wants to go up to that place in Manchester-- you know the one! I almost didn't want to tell you because I know you'd get so jealous. Garlic prawns, yum. When you get back for R &R, we can go. I'll pay for the flight to Manchester, I don't care. :)_

_Fizzy is having boyfriend problems. It's for the best that the scary military older brother is not around._

_Lottie bought a new car. It is nicer than ours. Not fair. I know you love that thing, but it has been struggling lately. The engine needs a little boost to turn in the morning. But! That is a problem to deal with another time! Like when you come home! How soon is that again?? Just kidding. I've got a countdown._

_Call when you get a chance. I'll be with fam for another 3 days. Wish me luck. ;)_

_Love,  
H .xx_

\---

The little ones are in bed, and it's just Harry, his mum, Gemma, and Lottie in the back garden, sipping on shandies. Gemma refrains, to which Harry looks at her pointedly until she notices.

"You're such a creep," she says, laughing. It's like they're still teenagers, instead of two adults living adult lives.

Though Harry certainly does not feel like an adult most days.

There's still the matter of his part-time job.

"So I don't know if I've mentioned that I do lessons now," Harry says, slowly spinning the glass in his hands.

"You've mentioned it once or twice," Lottie says, her feet propped up and bare.

"In the last couple of hours," Gemma adds.

Harry smirks, because he's so transparent. He wears his heart on his sleeve, always has. 

"Well, I really like it. And I have one kid I give lessons to-- okay, the only one-- and I really look forward to it. I feel like it's something I could do... like, all the time."

"Oh, thank God," Anne sighs. 

Arching his eyebrow, he looks over at his mum.

"Mum was worried you'd never find a purpose," Gemma explains before curtly taking a sip from her simple lemonade.

"I tried not to pressure you," Anne says, hands up in guilt.

Harry laughs out loud before he realises how inappropriate it is. Part of her pressuring him to find a direction was what led to him marrying his best friend.

"Sorry, mum. It's just, y'know. You may not have said the words, but I still knew you weren't happy when I left uni."

Anne looks at him softly. "So what are these plans, then?"

"Well, they're not plans," Harry starts. "There are no plans. I have to, like, talk to Louis and everything. I know that we'll get moved eventually, so, yeah. I don't know. We have to talk first."

"Okay," Anne says, nodding, sensing Harry's anxiety increasing. "So what do you like about giving guitar lessons so much then?"

That, Harry can explain.

"I can see what a difference it's making in this kid's life. Like, his dad is deployed and his mum is stressed, and I think he takes a lot of that pressure on. I can see that it hurts him, even though he doesn't want to talk about it. But when he plays, it's like he can just forget all of that. It's a distraction, it's a way for him to get his emotions out, and I just really like seeing that."

"So... what would that make you?" Lottie asks. "A music teacher?"

Harry grimaces at the thought. He never much saw himself as going back to school. Took him enough to just get out of the place, never mind settling back in one for the long haul.

"No," Harry says, toying with the rip over his knee. "Maybe not like a teacher, but I saw online about people who, like use music to help people get over pain. Like a music therapist."

"Music therapist?" Gemma asks. "Isn't that what the mum in About a Boy did?"

"It is!" Lottie says, sitting up and laughing. "That is so you. And you and Louis' kid will be the awkward one who sings to himself!"

Anne and Gemma laugh with full bellies as Harry sits there and pouts.

"Just something I'm thinking about," he mumbles, before their laughs get to him and drag a smirk from his lips.

\---

It's right before he heads back to Belfast that he goes for a walk with Fizzy, just the two of them, down to the shops in town. Fizzy would have much rather taken a car, but Harry doesn't mind, happy to stroll through their village and chat.

Neighbours shout out to them as they walk, calling across the street at Harry to inquire how Louis is.

"So far, so good!" Harry says with a smile, thinking how Louis hasn't called in over a week. His bones ache with how much he misses Louis sometimes, especially now. He had half-hoped that spending time with the Tomlinson clan would ease that, but the truth is, all it has done has remind him of all the things they used to do together.

He feels foolish, then, for missing Louis so much. It's not normal to ache because you haven't seen your best mate in a while. It's not normal to cling to another family because it might lessen some of your own emotions.

But it's only when Fizzy turns to him and gives him a smile-- a truly rare and authentic smile-- that Harry realises their mistake. 

"Don't make fun of me because I'm about to say something really embarrassing. And you can't ever repeat these words or I will torture you."

"Okay," Harry says, full of intrigue. He waves half-heartedly at someone across the street, though his eyes are still on Fizzy.

"I'm really glad you and Louis are married. I'm glad you're my brother. You're a really good big brother."

Harry smiles down at her.

"Okay, sap time over. Back to my eternal misery."

Harry stops in his tracks and reaches over, pulling her into a hug in the middle of the pavement. She doesn't struggle against it like he thought she might have done. 

"I love you a lot, Fizz. Louis does too."

"Whatever."

Right. Moment officially gone then. As they continue their walk, Harry thinks back on her words, and cement starts churning in his gut.

They really fucked up.

Harry honestly hadn't considered how they would untangle themselves from this web of lies. Sure, on the surface they had planned it out. Max five years, or minimum until they both felt stable and ready to move on. They'd get a divorce and somehow convince their families it was mutual, they had discussed it, and they could remain best friends.

Harry feels truly stupid now. Because he really let himself get wrapped up in this fantasy world. He let himself feel like a Tomlinson, like he actually was one of them.

He isn’t Fizzy's brother. He is a friend of the family who got too close.

He is suddenly and very strongly not looking forward to the divorce, whenever that is going to happen. At this point, it’s inevitable.

\---

Harry is making himself a cup of tea in the flat when he hears his Skype notification ringing from his laptop.

He shuffles over, expecting it to be Gemma, but almost drops the cup in shock when he sees Louis' handle trying to connect with him. He jumps to connect, almost knocking over his entire laptop and tea in the process, but is so relieved when he sees a screen pop up.

It's black as it tries to connect.

"Lou?" Harry asks, heart pounding. He actually hasn't laid eyes on Louis since he left. All of their communication has been over the phone or Harry's silly email-letters.

"Hazza?" Louis responds, his voice clear, but the video still not working.

"I can't see you," Harry whines.

"Darn, and here I was excited to actually be able to Skype for once."

The screen flickers, and in pixels, Louis' face appears. Harry blinks rapidly and finds he forgets how to breathe.

"God, you look gorgeous," he says, before his brain catches up with him. He refrains from slapping himself in the forehead because that would only be more embarrassing.

Louis chuckles, but Harry can't help but notice that it's true. He's not sure if it's just because he hasn't seen Louis in two months or because being out in the sun has turned Louis' face all golden and freckled, his hair developing blonder streaks.

"I genuinely thought soldiers were supposed to be all dirty looking and with helmet head," Harry muses, because somehow he has stopped behaving like a normal person.

"Ninety percent of the time, that's what I look like. I just had some time after a shower. You more than anyone should know how not-gorgeous I am on the typical day."

"Oh, don't get modest now," Harry laughs, though he's still staring at the way Louis' fatigues frame his neck. How many times has he seen Louis in fatigues before?

"Are you back at home?" Louis asks, trying to peek around the back of Harry.

"If by 'home' you mean our flat, then yes," Harry says. "I got back the other day."

Louis nods. "I was so gutted I couldn't call then."

Harry looks down at his hands, knotted up, trying to distract himself from Louis' tanned, pouting face.

Harry remembers when they first moved into this flat, and they were sharing a bed, how they would tangle up in each other sometimes. The last two months have proven to be a little chilly in terms of sleeping. Harry still sticks to his side, refusing to splay out in the middle.

He thinks of Louis' eyes, blown wide, as Harry's hand snaked down underneath the duvet like he was about to wank in front of him.

Harry shakes himself out of it.

So Harry tells Louis about his lessons, and how poor Presley has no idea about some guitar legends, and how it has become Harry's duty to give him a musical education.

Louis finds this all very amusing. "Really? He's named after Elvis and he doesn't know who these people are? Clapton?"

Harry nods. "I mentioned Stevie Nicks the other day and he was like, 'who's he?'"

Louis puts a hand over his heart like he's wounded by the story.

"It's a good thing he has you," Louis says. "Same could be said for all of us."

"Sap," Harry says, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, well. I don't know if you have much room to talk. You know I can see that countdown calendar from here, right?"

Harry spins around to see his homemade countdown calendar that Daisy had helped him make when he was in Holmes Chapel. 

"About a month until you're on R&R," Harry says, showing off the countdown. 

"And I can not wait," Louis says, beaming.

\---

While it had partly been his idea, Harry regrets suggesting that they go 'out' tonight, as opposed to their usual pub time. It seemed like a good idea at the time-- what with Harry wanting to drink away some of the inappropriate thoughts that had resurfaced-- but really, Harry should have known better.

It always goes like this: whenever Harry is pulling his life together and things are going in the right direction, he always manages to fuck it up. If fucking up things was a superpower, that would be his.

So even as he hovers near the bar and lets this guy flirt with him, he knows he's on thin ice.

The bloke chatting him up is cute-- dark hair, kind of messy. Sounds local, completely devoid of any relation to the Army. He's using words that Harry understands, and avoiding acronyms that Harry might have to google. 

Until he sees the guy's eyes look down at his left hand, Harry's not sure if he's trying to pull.

"Are you married?" the guy asks.

Harry gulps, because _yes_ , but he doesn't want to really have to explain himself. He also wants to carry on the flirting. It feels nice to have someone's attention.

"Just like jewellery," he says with a wink, and he almost hates himself for the lie, but then he remembers that he and Louis had agreed it would be okay. Harry's going on two years without having sex with another human being. He could probably pop a boner on demand at this point.

The guy looks him over again, clearly trying to decide whether or not to accept Harry's blatant lie. How many English people are in Holywood that aren't married into the Army?

His back burns with the heat of Perrie and Niall's curious glances. If he was planning on pulling, he should have come alone.

Fuck, he thinks to himself. He and Louis had a conversation about it. It's not Perrie's business or Niall's business. Next step would be for him to change his name, create a disguise and drive several towns over. Hiding sounds ridiculous, and also, he needs someone to touch his dick.

He amps it up a little bit, leaning into the other man while he reaches across the bar to get his drink. They should move away, give others some space to get closer, but Harry stays put, close enough to smell the other guy's musk.

Waking up alone sucks, but even Harry's not sure he wants to go anywhere with a stranger. He's not sure he should take this guy back to the barracks, either. If someone there saw, he'd certainly get an earful. Sometimes the base is as gossipy as Holmes Chapel. 

"I have to go to the toilets," Harry says, voice deep and slow. He slowly turns and glances back at the sign for the gents' room, and then turns back to his guest and winks.

He slides the empty shot glass back across the bar to the bartender and does his best slinky walk toward the loo. He puts a show on, and he thinks about how back in Bristol, Louis would give him such shit when he tried it on other guys. Every now and then, Louis would just saunter through rooms in what he dubbed his 'sexy Harry strut'. 

Thinking of Louis hurts, though, so Harry just moves to wash his hands in the sink and hopes that the guy from the bar follows.

Before he even gets a chance to dry his hands, the door cracks open, and his mystery friend slides in.

In this light, Harry sees the way the man has crow’s feet by his eyes, and a tattoo that creeps up the side of his neck. Harry hadn't been sitting on that side earlier. What a shame.

The man stalks closer, earning a grin from Harry as he backs them into a stall. 

They stand toe-to-toe, his gin-breath ghosting across Harry's face, before Harry pulls him in for a filthy kiss, teeth clacking.

The man pulls away, nosing down Harry's neck as Harry gives him more access, back flat against the wall of the stall.

"So what's the real story, then?" The man drawls. "Your wife just not doing it for you?"

Harry chokes out a laugh and shakes his head.

The other man nips at the skin exposed from his open collar, causing Harry to gasp, the only sound other than the drip from the leaky faucet.

Finding his voice, he says, "My husband and I have an agreement. Don't worry about it."

"Wasn't worried," the man responds, before he slides down to his knees, face even with Harry's crotch.

Harry lifts his bum off the back of the wall just far enough so his companion can tug his jeans to his thighs. His knees shake as the other man's hand wraps around him, a few jerks to make Harry breathless.

( _'Blowjobs in a loo? What if it's someone from school? Or worse, a professor?_ ', Louis laughs, smacking Harry upside the head. )

Louis had always been concerned about Harry's safety, even before Harry dropped out of uni. Harry had never minded the idea of shagging a professor, of course, but Louis was always worried about Harry doing something wrong. Because Harry messes things up, just like he's messing up right now.

The man's mouth is wet and hot, and it's so easy for Harry to get lost in his own mind. It's so easy to focus on the sensation, to close his eyes and imagine that it's someone else's hand traveling up his thigh to cup at his balls.

That has him losing it, shooting out into a stranger's mouth without so much as a warning. He curls in on himself with the force of it.

After a few seconds of silence, he opens his eyes and looks down at the man on his knees. He still looks the same, rugged and older, still has that tattoo on the side of his neck, but Harry doesn't feel right. He had wanted to have sex-- wanted that release so badly and fuck the consequences. But now that it's done, and he has this other person to account for, he blinks down and lets the full weight of his actions slam down on him.

His friends saw him sneak off with this other bloke. They think he's cheated on Louis. 

Louis, who is off probably all tired and hungry and sore. 

Harry is so fucking selfish.

Then, of course, to prove how selfish he is, he pushes the bloke off him, yanks his trousers back up and rushes out of the stall, belt still undone in his haste.

\---

During his shameful walk back to the barracks, Harry hopes his post-orgasm reaction was just because he was tired and hormonal.

He is sorely disappointed in the morning when he wakes up feeling even worse about it.

The guilt gnaws at him, sitting heavy in his gut. He stumbles over to the toilet, hovering in front of it, as if his intestines are about to empty themselves. Nothing comes. Resting his head on the cool porcelain, he asses his situation. Cotton mouth, sure, but no throbbing headache. The chances of this being a hangover are low.

He eases back up on to his feet, his knees creaking as he stands, and he moves to the sink to brush his teeth.

Spitting the foam back into the basin, he places the toothbrush in his holder, and then steps backwards. He lets himself slide down the wall, back against the cool tile, until he's sitting bareassed on the floor. He hasn’t felt this pathetic since he got kicked out by his weirdo flatmates.

Raking a hand through his hair, he tries to reassess. Not a hangover. He was not nearly drunk enough last night to earn one. Just tipsy and desperate enough to make other poor choices, like getting a blowjob from a stranger, however.

Fuck, Harry thinks as he sits there. He didn't have a condom on him at all, and he just let some guy...

Even worse, he remembers just what he had been thinking about during that blowjob. And all night, really, but particularly when he was getting close to his orgasm. Normally he just chases the feeling, focusing on the heat, but he remembers last night flashing over to Louis, something triggering a memory, or the feeling of the other guy's hair being soft like Louis'. That made it all too easy to cross that line and actually think about Louis.

Worst of all, Harry's not even sure who he feels like he's lying to. He wasn't exactly honest to his stranger-friend last night, nor did he exactly treat him fairly. And even though he and Louis agreed that there were certain provisions to their arrangement, Harry still felt like he was being _dishonest_. Louis was out there, being all important and whatnot, and Harry was here, being weak and dependent on foolish things like sex. 

Ultimately, Harry guesses, stretching his legs out across the tile, the person he's lying to the most is himself. 

He'd rather spend two years with Louis not having any kind of physical relationship than being able to go out and shag strangers whenever he wants. The thought fucks him up a bit.

He distantly hears his phone beeping with a text from its place in the bedroom. He doesn't move to go get it.

A minute or two later, the text message is followed up with a series of knocks at his front door. Hesitantly, Harry drags himself up off the floor and shuffles to the door, nerves kicking at his belly.

He opens the door a crack, relief flooding him as he sees Perrie and Niall standing there.

"Hi," he says, head in between the door and the wall.

"Harry," they greet in unison. It's impressive how they've gotten to that point in their friendship.

"This is an intervention," Perrie announces as she slides through the door, paying no attention to the fact that he's wearing no clothes.

The two of them slide over to the sofa area and wait patiently until Harry returns, joggers and t-shirt and all.

"Intervene away," Harry says, sitting down. He looks over at them, and can see their reactions for when they notice his sunken eyes.

They glance between themselves, and then Niall scoots forward.

"Mate, what happened last night?"

Harry swallows. Precisely what he was worried about.

"I had a bit to drink," Harry starts. "Flirted a bit."

" _Flirted_?" Perrie asks.

Harry pauses, avoiding eye contact. They both saw him slip away. Hell, Niall could have been the toilets for all Harry knew. 

"Harry, did you cheat on Louis last night?" Perrie asks. "You know we love you no matter what, but we don't want to see you--" 

Harry stops listening at that. It's hard to cheat on someone when you're not really together. It's hard to cheat on someone when you're not really together. It’s hard to cheat… He hopes that if he repeats it enough, he'll start to believe it.

Pursing his lips, he finally looks up. "I don't know what I should tell you. It's not what you think. It's kind of complicated."

Niall clears his voice. "Like you have an open marriage?" he asks.

Harry’s gaze drifts up to the ceiling. "Something like that. I- I- I feel like I want to tell you, but I don't think I should. I don't want to get either of you in trouble."

"In trouble?" Perrie asks, voice clouded with confusion. "With Louis?"

Harry shakes his head.

"Okay," he says. "I'm going to tell you this story. But I need to know that you are going to keep it a secret."

"I'll never spill," Niall says, Perrie nodding alongside him.

"So... Louis and I haven't exactly been honest. And not just with you guys. Everyone, really. Um, but yeah. I did hook up with that guy last night."

Huffing out a frustrated breath, he tries again.

"Let me start at the beginning. Well, maybe not the beginning. Um, so like, almost two years ago, Louis was getting ready to head off to Sandhurst and I was more or less on the verge of a meltdown. I had a lot of credit card debt, and had dropped out of uni, and was living in a shitty flat with a few weirdos who just one day decided to kick me out. I mean, I hadn't been paying rent, so there's that, but then I was also let go from my job at a record shop. So I didn't have anywhere to live or work, and my best friend was leaving soon to be all fancy, and it was just not a good time. I didn't really know what I was going to do, because I wasn't exactly trained in anything. I knew how to work a till and sweep floors at a bakery. I knew that I had gotten to the point where even another job at a cafe or something wouldn't have gotten me out of the hole I had dug for myself."

He takes a breath, looking at his two friends. Thinking back on it, that had been a really dark time for Harry. He knows it happens to everyone, these ebbs and flows, but he's glad to be out of it for now. Glad that he has positive things and people in his life. Granted, he may be in the process of freaking some of those people out of his life, but he's trying to be optimistic.

"So I'm out with Louis and we're talking to Zayn, who had just proposed to you, Pezza. That night, Louis gets this bright idea that he and I get married."

"That's how he proposed?" Perrie asks. "I remember you mentioning it was in bed, but I thought it would have been a little more romantic."

"No," Harry sighs, "Um. We weren't together. Aren't together."

"What? So you're not married?" Niall asks, scratching his head.

"No, you are. Zayn was at the ceremony," Perrie says, pointing her finger at Harry.

Harry thinks his words over, his explanation dripping out of him like honey. "We are married, but we're not in a romantic relationship with each other."

Silence falls over the room as Perrie and Niall think over his words.

"Eh?" Niall grunts.

Harry laughs, dropping his hands over his face. "It's for Army benefits, really. And so I can take care of his shit while he's gone, because he apparently is still a child."

"And so you get these sweet digs?"

"I've seen you snog each other!" Perrie says, shaking her head. "I feel like you're having me on. You're the perfect couple."

Harry shrugs, laughing. "Maybe because we're not a couple?"

The laughter bubbles out of him. He knows it's so absurd, their situation, but he's relieved to have someone else who knows the truth. It might help him out, actually. He won't have to pretend to be in love with Louis all the time, and that might help untangle himself from his thoughts.

"I do feel like my whole life has been a lie," Niall agrees, the nervous laughter spreading to him. "All this time I'm feeling like I'm the single one. And you're out here shagging blokes in toilets. What a champ."

Niall bringing up his conquest last night sobers him.

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be doing that again. Louis and I agreed it'd be okay, but I feel like shit."

"A bit of a coping mechanism?" Perrie asks. "Because you miss him?"

Harry sighs, knowing that now he is bringing on a whole new set of questions.

\---

Harry shoots Louis a very vague note.

_Hi, miss you. Wish you were here. Did something very stupid and then followed it up by explaining to Perrie our fun engagement story. The real one, not the one we tell our families. I thought I should let you know. Other than that, everyone here is fine. I know I just talked to you the other day. Thinking about you. --H .xx_

Harry presses send, thinking that it's specific enough for Louis to catch on, but vague enough if it's read by someone else, which it will be. Harry hates to sound paranoid, but Louis told him to never believe anything was private in Army communications.

When the phone rings a couple days later, Harry nervously picks up the phone, staring at the string of unknown numbers.

"Hi."

"Harry," Louis says. "I don't have long. Please tell me you did not do what I think you did."

Harry grimaces. "I did. I told Perrie and Niall the truth."

"Oh God," Louis groans. Harry can picture him from here, hand thrown over his face. "Explain please."

Harry sighs. He had hoped he could glaze over that part. "I pulled someone at a pub, and they both saw. They confronted me about cheating on you."

"You pulled someone in a pub?" Louis asks, voice hollow. "Is he in the Army? What’s his name? "

"No," Harry insists. "I don't know his name."

"You don't know his name?" Louis repeats, sounding oddly hysterical. "You fucked some random bloke in a pub, did you?"

Harry sees red. "Louis, keep your voice down. Someone might overhear."

"Right, because someone might hear that my _husband_ fucked some random."

"I didn't _fuck him_ , Louis," Harry spits.

"Why do you even care if people overhear?" Louis continues. "It's not like you seem to think much of our agreement, anyway."

Harry takes a breath, trying to reason with himself. He’s sure that Louis’ outburst has to do with a million other things, like the stresses of being an officer. It’s nothing personal.

"I needed to explain to them that I wasn't a cheater. I'm sorry, Louis. I fucked up. Of course I care."

Louis sighs on the other end, followed by silence that strings across the hemispheres and the English channel and up to their stupid shared flat. At least Louis seems deflated now, his initial panic about being uncovered by the gossip in the barracks passed as quickly as it came. 

"I just, fuck, Harry. Now I need to tell Zayn. He has no idea."

Harry fiddles with the ring on his left hand. He slides it off, spinning it around and looking at the inscription inside. 

Louis has never been cross with him before-- not over something so serious. Usually it was just brotherly spats, and then their domestics over dishes. But Harry has properly bungled this one up, though they had technically woven the web together.

"I'll be back in a few weeks," Louis says calmly. "We can talk this out then. Sorry that I flipped."

"I really regret it," Harry blurts, needing Louis to hear him before they hang up. He really wants Louis to know that the sex meant nothing to him. "I thought I needed it, and I just, shit. I wish I could go back. I didn't want this."

"Do you even know what you want?" Louis asks.

Harry thinks it over. "I'm starting to," he says slowly.

They disconnect, promising to suspend any further spats until Louis gets back for his break. Harry thinks that R&R probably isn't intended for arguments, but the office did mention to the spouses to expect them.

Harry slips his ring back on, feeling the way the metal ripples over his bare skin as he rubs his hands on his knees.


	8. Chapter 8

While Harry had expected Niall and Perrie to treat him a little differently, pull away even, business carries on as usual. They spend their days working and roaming the base, and their evenings eating together and warming seats at the local pub.

By the time Louis' two weeks of R&R are approaching, Harry's been able to swallow the fear growing inside him. He's so excited to see Louis, painfully so, but he's worried that their recent spat has left them in an awkward place.

Only when he parks their car and walks over to the airfield do the nerves kick into high gear. He waits in the lobby, kicking at the vending machine, a few other families hovering about. There's only a small handful of soldiers getting their R&R now, even fewer officers. 

The little girl near Harry starts jumping up and down wildly when the plane lands, kicking dust up with its brakes. 

The families pour outside, eager to get a glimpse of their loved ones. Harry moves to let a different little girl in front of him. His guts threaten to oust themselves as he wrings his hands and waits to get his glimpse of his best mate.

When the door opens and the stairs roll up, a few people in the small crowd start clapping, Harry quickly joining in.

Eventually, the soldiers make their way down. Some, Harry recognises, but mostly, he keeps his eyes peeled for Louis.

They spot each other at the same time: Louis' left foot on the top stair. As soon as Louis steps on the ground, he quickly sidesteps the woman in front of him and starts jogging towards Harry.

Harry moves to meet him, smile growing because at least it seems Louis is happy to see him. Louis pulls him in easily, hugging him hello.

Harry grips tightly for a moment, just letting himself feel the bunched up uniform under his fingers and the smell of sunscreen that should have already faded.

When he pulls away, he makes sure to take a step back, getting a full glimpse of Louis.

"Not bad, Tomlinson," he says, hoping it sounds light and airy, because the truth is worse. In honest, Louis looks better than ever, his face tanned and freckled, his hair highlighted by the sun. Harry can spot a bit of paleness around his eyes, probably from wearing his sunglasses, but underneath, his eyes are full of relief.

"Hazza, your hair is getting outrageous," Louis says, reaching out to touch the lengths of it. It's down past his chin now, almost at his shoulders. "You look great."

Harry tilts his head and watches Louis, who watches him in turn. 

"I'm glad you're here," Harry says, and walks backwards to lead Louis back to the car.

Of course, Harry bumps into someone else who was standing right behind him. "Oops, sorry, sorry," he says, reaching a hand out to make sure they're okay.

When he looks back to Louis, he is shaking his head and laughing.

"Stop," Harry laughs, moving back towards him to thread their arms together. He walks forward to the car after that.

Maybe they’ll just ignore the elephant in the room altogether. 

\---

Harry looks at the list he had placed on the fridge earlier in the week. It contains all of Louis' favourite foods, and he is determined to make or provide him with them during his two weeks home. 

First up: fajitas. 

“I hope you’re not trying to cook all this to, like, make up for the last thing we talked about,” Louis comments, trying to sound like his comment is off-handed, meaningless. Really, Harry has been waiting for this to come up. Their initial greeting had been too easy, too friendly, when the last one had left Harry practically in tears.

‘The last thing we talked about.’ Harry’s not sure if it makes him feel better or worse that Louis can’t even bring himself to talk about it in real terms, either.

“Because there’s nothing to apologise for. I overreacted. It wasn’t right of us to be lying to our friends, anyway,” Louis continues. Harry bites back the comment about lying to their families too.

When Harry doesn’t say anything, Louis brushes on, clearly unable to stop the verbal diarrhea. “And you’re free to have sex with whoever you want. Don’t think that was it. You can do whatever you want.”

It sounds a bit defensive even to Harry’s ears. 

“But that’s the thing,” Harry says, looking down at the pepper in his hand. “It felt wrong. I mean, I don’t know if you have… since you’ve…”

Harry can’t even get the words out.

“Oh, no,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I haven’t.”

“See? Even if we’re both free to, it’s weird.”

“Okay,” Louis says quietly. Harry’s not sure what this conversation even means in the grand scheme of things. Really, they need to talk about this more. 

Instead, Harry starts chopping the vegetables up while Louis lies back on the sofa watching the news. 

A series of knocks on the front door has Harry screwing his face up, because he definitely didn't invite anyone over tonight, specifically thinking that Louis would want to decompress.

"It's open," Harry calls out, minding his cutting board.

"Wey hey," Niall answers, rounding the bend. He kicks off his trainers, which land in a heap next to Louis' beige boots. "Where's the big man?"

Harry bites his tongue, holding in the obvious joke about Louis, as Niall breezes past the kitchen and into the living room.

Harry listens to their conversation. He's not eavesdropping, it's just that the telly is down low. 

"I didn't know you were coming over!" Louis greets. There are some slapping noises that Harry hopes were the two of them hugging.

"Always have dinner with Haz these nights. Just wanted to stop by and see you, mate. Glad you're home for a couple."

"Cheers," Louis responds, and even Harry can hear the stiffness in his voice. And here Harry was thinking they made progress.

Harry abandons his station and wanders to the living room, hoping to mediate any awkwardness. When he plops down on the other end of the sofa, however, he finds that he's not sure how to act. Before Louis left, it would have been very easy to prop his feet up on Louis or sit too close or make some flirty remark. But now that Niall knows they're not really together, Harry forgets how they used to be before. It's been almost _two years_ of faking it. He thinks that maybe their relationship has just morphed, but he doesn't know if Louis feels that way. Does Louis think it's normal to still behave like a couple when everyone in the room knows they're not?

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Harry asks. He could chop up some more veg.

Niall waves him off. "Just coming round to say hello. Won't expect you at the pub tonight, then?" he asks, standing up to brush non-existent crumbs off his trousers.

"No," Harry says, eyes flashing over to Louis. "Think not. Take care of Pezza, though."

"Please," Niall laughs, "That girl takes care of me."

Both Harry and Louis laugh. Fair enough.

Niall leaves as smoothly as he entered, and Harry and Louis sit on the couch for a moment just breathing in each others’ company. Harry rests his head against the back of the sofa, his curls spilling out over the cushion.

"I want to change the channel, but I don't know where the remote is," Louis says. Harry's eyes flutter open to see Louis scowling at the screen.

"Might be over there," Harry says, gesturing to the bowl next to the screen. "I've been putting it there recently."

"You never did that before," Louis says, sitting up and moving to go look.

"I know," Harry responds. He unfurls himself and moves to go cook. "It's recent."

Louis nods and doesn't respond. He just flops back on the sofa, stretching his legs across the entirety of it.

Harry digs the frying pan out and sets his focus.

\---

Harry wakes up on his own volition, moments before his alarm clock is set to rudely blare out. Despite the morning rain he hears slapping against the window, he feels... wonderful. He slept well the night before, deep and peaceful, and this morning, he's ready to hop out of bed and tackle the world.

The warm body next to him rustles closer before stilling again. Harry lies there, smiling to himself and waiting for the tell-tale even breathing that Louis' gone back to sleep. He's a bit of a mouth-breather at night.

Harry has no doubt that Louis being home is the cause for his good night's sleep and his ruthless optimism. Just feeling the weight of another body beside him would be enough, but then again, knowing that he doesn’t have to walk on eggshells next to Louis helps, too.

Slowly, he turns onto his back, and then onto his other side, peeking over at Louis. Is it a little creepy? Maybe, but he's just enjoying the view, knowing that Louis is safe and warm and comfortable. Like a parent checking on a child, except... not.

Louis wiggles a little bit, arms folded close to his body. Little puffs of air escape from his pouted lips as he sleeps, and Harry could listen to them all morning. He looks down to the triangle on Louis' chest where his tan line meets his pale English skin, proof that the Army can't take away everything he is or was before it.

Harry spots a patch near Louis' ear that's a bit burned, peeling. 

He wouldn't mind waking up like this forever. In fact, there's probably no one in the world he loves as much as Louis. 

Pressing his own heel of his hand into his eyes, he sits up quickly, shaken with the thought. 

"Fuck off," Louis mumbles, stirring and turning onto his stomach.

Harry takes two deep breaths before looking ahead into the mirror. He had picked it up at Ikea and the frame is about to fall off it already. That stupid mirror, and his dumbfounded expression in the reflection, tells him all he needs to know. 

When he gets to work for his opening shift, he's slightly wet. His mood has shifted from outright optimism, to quietly-freaking-out-but-still-feeling-good. 

In fact, he keeps his revelation inside until Niall's done with his lesson, leading Lux and Lou out of the practice room. Harry's over at the sheet music, uselessly organising them though most people don't touch them at all, watching the three of them out of the corner of his eye.

He waits for the chime of the door to tell him that Lux and Lou have left, trudging back to the base.

Niall's not even back to his post by the till until Harry can't take it.

"I'm going to say this out loud, because you're probably the only person I can say this to," he blurts as a warning.

Niall looks up, curious and waiting.

"I think I might be in love with Louis."

Niall, to his credit, doesn't say anything. He makes it a whole twenty seconds before his lips form into a thin line with the effort of not laughing.

"Are you having me on?" he asks. "Is Louis in the back room giggling away?"

Harry shakes his head, clutching _Songs from The Lion King_.

"Mate, the other day you told me that you weren't together."

"I _know_ ", Harry whines. He melts down onto the floor, spread out with his arm flopped over his eyes. He can be dramatic.

"You're telling me you're in love with your husband," Niall repeats. "Like, I want you to listen to how ridiculous that is," Niall says, outright laughing now.

"What? I'm in love with my husband?" Harry repeats, just removing his arm enough to see Niall cackling away.

"How do you know?" Niall asks.

Harry sits up to shrug. "I mean, we've been mates for over a decade and I still haven't got sick of him. We've been doing this whole charade for basically two years and I just feel like, more satisfied in this fake relationship than any real one I've had. And I keep saying shit like, ‘Oh, I'd rather keep doing this than actually pursue anyone else!’ And this morning, I just noticed that he's like, radiant. Shit, that sounds so cheesy, but I don't know why I didn't appreciate it before. I've always known he was fit, but like, wow."

"And I thought you were obnoxious before I knew you weren't really together," Niall says.

"Yes, but what do I _do_?" Harry asks.

Niall laughs, shrugging. "How the fuck would I know? I've never been in your position. I don't think anyone in the world has been in your position. Let me know how it goes, yeah?"

\---

Naturally, Harry decides to just ignore it, and hope it goes away. Maybe this upsurge of emotions is a fluke, something to do with his over-romanticisation of rain drops hitting windows, or the comfort of having Louis close by again. 

All he knows is that he was fine before, and now he's questioning everything he thought he knew.

"What's this, Hazza?" Louis calls from the kitchen. "Hemp milk?"

Harry stands and strolls over, leaning against the door frame. Louis looks up at him, hunched over and standing in the light of the refrigerator, and Harry can't help but smile. 

Louis, on the other hand, looks perturbed.

"What the hell is it?"

"Milk made from hemp," Harry says, flourishing his wrist to lead Louis to the obvious.

"Weed milk, Harry? Are you drinking weed milk?"

Harry laughs, throwing his head back and whacking it on the wooden post. "Ow," he mumbles, rubbing the egg slightly. "It's not _weed milk_. It doesn't get you high or anything. Try it."

Louis pours a small glass, looking back at Harry dubiously. Picking up the glass delicately, he screws up his face and throws the small trace of milk back, like a shot.

"Oh fuck," Louis responds. "I'd prefer the weed, to be honest. Shit, can we even afford this crap?"

Harry nods. "Do you ever look at the bank account?" He asks. Louis shrugs, which Harry takes to mean 'absolutely not'. 

"And I thought the almond milk was weird," Louis sighs, brushing past Harry.

Harry puts the milk-rimmed cup in the sink before following Louis back to the living room.

\---

"Come to the shop, come to the shop, come to the shop," Harry chants, tugging gently on Louis' ankle.

"Later," Louis mumbles, trying to bury his face further into his pillow.

"Promise?" Harry asks. He lets go of Louis' bony ankle and moves to stand up. As soon as he does, Louis hooks his own feet back under the comforter and cocoons himself, rolling into the middle of their bed.

Louis grunts, which Harry takes to mean it's a promise, so he slips on his boots and hops in the car, hoping that Louis can catch a ride down later.

It's later, when Harry's in the middle of his weekly lesson with Presley that Louis finds his way down to the shop. Harry practically feels it in his bones when Louis arrives, but mostly, he hears Louis and Niall's mumbles through the cracked open door.

He and Presley are going through some chords when Louis' face appears in the doorway. Grinning, Harry waves him in.

Louis squeezes himself through the crack and moves to hide off in the corner.

"Presley, have you met Louis yet?" Harry says.

"Hello, sir," Presley says, nodding his head forward.

Louis moves forward to shake his hand while Harry just sits with his mouth dropped open at the displays of etiquette in front of him.

"You never call me sir," Harry points out. Louis pulls up a stool closer to the lesson.

"You're Harry," Presley responds, rolling his eyes. It's kind of a relief to see the teen return to his normal attitude.

"Who knew all I had to do to get a little respect around here was to become an officer, jeez," Harry laughs, propping his guitar and moving to grab some sheet music.

He throws a book at Louis with a wink, nodding over to the piano. 

"If you wanted me to play so bad, there is a keyboard at the flat," Louis says, flipping through the pages. Louis will definitely be rusty not having played for a couple of months. It always takes him a little bit to get back into the groove when he's taken time off playing. His time after Sandhurst was embarrassing-- he hated playing with anyone within listening distance, Harry included.

"But now Presley and I get to jam with you," Harry says, slurring his words as if he were some hippie.

Harry turns back to Presley. "You like The Lion King?"

Presley shrugs. "My little sister likes it."

"How old is your little sister?" Harry asks, head tilted to the side. He loves these moments where Presley shares something about his life, even something as simple as the fact that he has a sister.

"Eight."

"Well, maybe you could play her this song," Harry suggests. "Louis plays it for his little sisters still."

"When they can sit still long enough to listen," Louis agrees, cottoning on to the song Harry wants to play. 

He idly flips through the pages until he finds it and moves to sit at the piano bench. He presses a couple of keys to test it, and of course, it's perfectly in tune. 

Harry smiles at Presley and presents him with the chords for the song. They're all ones that Presley knows, so Harry hopes that this will be more of a fun exercise for him, instead of frustrating. 

He waits for Presley to hold his guitar correctly before he starts strumming.

"G, C, G, D," Harry sings, reminding Presley of the chords, "G, C, G, D, again."

They play the chords again, this time with Louis joining in, his fingers pressing into the ivory keys. And this time, Harry starts singing along, trying to get a smile out of Presley.

"In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight," Harry sings. Presley's lips twitch in amusement, and Harry glances over at Louis to catch his reaction. Sure enough, Louis' grinning, although his eyes are glued to his sheet music, which is silly. This is one song that Harry knows Louis could play any time, anywhere. 

"Again," he instructs quickly, before flowing right back into, "In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight."

"Wimoweh, Wimoweh," Louis chants, still plucking at keys.

Presley openly smiles at that and joins in, while still faint. "Wimoweh, wimoweh."

Harry hesitates for a moment, trying to decide if he's going to... no, fuck, he's definitely going to. 

"Oooooooh," Harry croons, stretching his voice to the highest it can go. Presley openly starts laughing now, smile wide as he struggles to get his 'wimowehs' out around his laughter.

Harry beams over at Louis, who finally meets his eyes, plonking the keys without looking at them. Harry knew Louis remembered this by heart.

Harry ends with a flourish, strumming out a few extra chords to be a show-off. 

"Well, that's what I'd consider a solid end of class," he says.

Presley nods, smile fainter but still present, as he leans down to put his guitar back in his case.

While Louis and Harry are walking him out of the room, Presley says, with all the casualty of an early teenager who says exactly what he thinks, "You know, you two smile at each other more than my parents."

Harry doesn't even remember telling Presley that he and Louis were married.

Harry looks over at Louis, who is looking back at him, smirking.

In unison, they shrug at each other.

Presley takes off into the street, guitar case held close to his chest as he attempts to wave back at them.

"Come help me clean," Harry says, heading back into the studio.

"His parents about to divorce or summat?" Louis asks, reaching for a disinfectant wipe.

"Not sure," Harry says. "He doesn't mention too much about home, but I know he gets all worked up about it. Anxious kid. He says that playing music helps him deal and forget."

"That's amazing," Louis sighs. "You're amazing, Haz."

Harry stares down at the ground, blushing even though he tries to will himself not to. He feels the heat on his cheeks, on his ears, and he knows that even if he turns away, Louis will be able to tell by the hunch of his shoulders.

"Thanks," he murmurs.

"I don't even think you realise it," Louis says, plopping himself back on the piano bench. "I've never seen you so alive. This is your element."

Harry can't help the blush now, and Louis has obviously spotted it by this point, so he just drops his face into one of his cool palms, blocking him from sight.

"I think this is it. What I want to be doing. Helping people deal with stuff and playing guitar."

Louis grins widely at him. "It's perfect for you, honest. You and your hemp milk and your music therapy."

As much as Louis teases him, now not being an exception, Harry knows that Louis wants him to be happy. That's always been the goal. When Harry was considering quitting uni, Louis wanted to make sure it would make Harry happy. When Harry fancied someone, Louis would always say that it didn't matter to him, as long as they made Harry happy, even though they never really did.

When Harry lost his flat, his job, and his pride, Louis stepped in and did everything possible to make Harry happy. 

Harry has been so blind.

He finds himself unable to speak with the weight of Louis' look, so he just shuffles over to the bench and sits at the other end, facing the keys.

He delicately tries to play a few keys, fingers struggling under the weight of each key.

"C, E, G, B," Louis recites, playing the keys for him.

Harry laughs, reaching over and pressing down on Louis' hands so the piano groans unpleasantly. 

"Not nice," Louis says, and his voice is so close that it gives Harry pause. How did they gravitate towards each other again?

They sit there, still, both their hands poised over the keys, but neither of them playing it. Harry feels like he should say something, say anything, since this might be the most loaded silence either of them has had.

"Aren't you Skyping with your mum in a little bit?" Harry says instead, looking up at the clock.

"Oh, yeah," Louis says, jumping back a little. He rushes to gather his things and leave, throwing out a quick goodbye.

Harry distinctly remembers them setting up the Skype chat to be at 5:00, and it's 2:50 now. 

\---

"I don't feel like cooking," Harry whines as he walks into the hallway. He waits for an acknowledgment from Louis, and when that doesn't come, he closes the front door behind himself and crosses into the living room. 

What he finds is Louis curled into the sofa, cheek smushed up against a throw pillow. He is instantly reminded that their two weeks together are flying by too fast, and that they're almost out of time.

Harry flops onto the chair next to the sofa, pulling his laptop off the coffee table and starting it up. 

After a few minutes of Harry typing an email to Zayn, Louis stirs.

"You type loud," he mumbles, eyes still shut.

"Sorry," Harry responds, looking over at him. "Was trying to be quiet."

"It's okay. You type with a purpose." Louis' eyes flutter open and they instantly make eye contact. It unnerves Harry to the bone. He's been so stupid. Even though he's in the middle of typing an email, he wants nothing more than to kiss Louis silly. Or just kiss him at all. Shit, he had never appreciated the opportunities they had before their friends knew the truth. 

But even then, Harry doesn't want Louis to kiss him for show. He wants Louis to feel this pull, too.

Harry turns to his screen, breaking his unintentional stare, while Louis sits up and rubs at his eyes. Harry's eyes can't help but drift back over to Louis, admiring how he looks all rumpled with his hair sticking up. 

"Wh'time is it?" Louis mumbles.

"A little after 5:30."

"Shit."

"Was I supposed to wake you?" Harry asks.

"No. I'll just have issues falling asleep tonight. Maybe. Not all of us can fall asleep anywhere, at any time, on anything."

"It's a gift," Harry responds, typing out a final sentence and pressing send.

"What should we do about dinner?" Louis asks, stretching his legs out.

"I do have an idea," Harry responds slowly. "I'm too tired to cook tonight. But do you know what we missed this year?"

Smirking, Louis nods. "I did think of that, actually. I asked this Kenyan woman the date, and when she said it, my body instantly craved nutella."

"Your body always craves nutella," Harry argues.

Louis hops up off the couch, the exact opposite of how he had been motionless before. "Belated Crepe Day, yeah buddy."

"You sound like Niall," Harry laughs, placing his laptop back on the table. He knows just the place. He hasn't been there yet-- going without Louis seemed a bit sacrilege. 

"You want to drive?" Harry asks offering up the keys as Louis tugs on his trainers. 

Louis shakes his head and waves it off.

With the heater rumbling in the car and the radio turned low, Harry feels likes this is something more than it is. They're not the same people they were when they were kids, or when they were in Bristol. They're a little older, not that much wiser, but still, they hold on to these things. Or really, each other. Surely Louis has to see that, too. No matter how much they grow or change, Harry will still drop anything to eat crepes with him in a dirty cafe.

When the GPS alerts him to his destination, Louis starts peering out the window for a parking spot.

"I think that's one... no, little car. Oh wait. There's one."

Louis doesn't even criticise his parking job.

The cafe isn't dingy like the one in Cheshire, more posh and trendy. It reminds him of Bristol. The lights overhead seem almost orange, and the women behind the counter smile kindly. A couple of other people huddle off in corners, so Harry moves to snag them a table by the window. 

"I'm going savoury. You go sweet."

Harry smiles down at the table, waiting for Louis to place his half of the order. They've always done it like this, too. One of them will go sweet, the other will choose a savoury one, and they split the two. Number one rule of Crepe Day is that there is no complaining what the other chooses. This is also why Harry is happy that Louis is choosing sweet. In the past, when Louis has had savoury, he's gone mental, stuffing in all sorts of weird cheeses and veg and meats. He once stuffed one with mushrooms and bacon and brie with hot sauce-- Harry wouldn't recommend the combo again.

"Your turn," Louis says, smirking and dropping down into the seat across from Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes and heads up to the counter. Looking through the glass, he sees the batter being spread. He glances back up at the menu, eyes trying to find the one he settled on.

"I'll go with the chicken, apple, cheddar, and honey one, please," Harry says, pulling out his wallet to swipe the card.

"Sure thing," the woman behind the till responds. "Just be a mo'."

When he reaches their table, his arse barely even touches the seat before Louis is kicking his shin asking about what he ordered. 

"It's a surprise," Harry says, teasing.

He kicks back, lightly, just because.

"Stop playing footsie with me," Louis says, laughing.

Harry's jaw drops, which only spurs Louis' laughter on.

"You started it," he argues, leaning over the table to flick at Louis' shirt. 

"Hey," he says, grin wide, as he tries to grab at Harry's wrist before he pulls away.

Of course, the moment Louis' fingers wrap around Harry's wrist, Harry feels an upsurge of nerves kick through his stomach. What is Louis thinking? And why is his thumb pressed just into his pulse point? Harry can practically hear his own heartbeat, and he's sure that Louis can feel it beating rapidly into his thumb. Almost like they're tied together.

"Alright lads, here's both of them," the waitress says, sliding both plates out of her hands and onto the linoleum tabletop.

It shocks Harry just enough to jump in his own seat, shocked out of his train of thoughts, Louis fingers dragging off his skin and onto the table. 

Harry's laugh sounds hysterical and out-of-place even to himself. He needs to get it together. It's not the first time he's ever found someone fit, and it probably won't be the last, so he just needs to get his shit together. 

"What's all this?" Louis asks, using his fork and knife to peer into the folds of the savory crepe. 

"Um," Harry says, eloquent as ever. "Chicken, I think. Some cheddar cheese, slices of apple, and a drizzle of honey."

"And a drizzle of honey," Louis repeats in his Harry impression. "So posh."

Harry blushes and tries to hide it unsuccessfully.

"Well, what do we have for dessert?"

"Strawberry, banana, Nutella. Classic."

Harry opens his mouth to tease Louis for being so boring, but Louis gets to him first.

"Uh uh uh," he cuts in, holding his finger up to stop Harry. "Rule number one: no complaining. Besides, I got the banana for you. Otherwise would have just been the berries."

"So considerate," Harry laughs. He eyes the two crepes side by side. "I know I should start with the savory, and then go sweet, but I kind of want to do dessert first."

"You do know I'm holding back all these jokes about you being sweet enough right now, right?" Louis deadpans, cutting into the dessert crepe, the nutella clinging to his knife.

"Ha ha," Harry deadpans. He reaches forward and grabs the fork right out of Louis' hands, gobbling up the bite of crepe on it before Louis could protest.

"You prat," Louis sighs.

"Quite good," Harry says, though the nutella makes it hard to verbalise.

Once he's had a bite of the sweet, he's willing to cut into the chicken one, the bit of apple crunching under his knife. He cuts in half first, spinning the plate so they each have a half pointed at them. 

"Cheers," Harry says, holding up his fork with a bit of crepe speared on it.

"Cheers," Louis says, grinning, reaching up to tap Harry's fork with his own. "Excellent choice," he tells Harry once he's swallowed his bite. "I take back what I said about the honey."

"I don't know why you doubt me," Harry says, pretending to be wounded.

"Aw, there, there," Louis says, reaching over and patting Harry lightly on the cheek. Harry feels completely transparent. How could Louis not see the way his eyes widen at the contact, when that's never happened before? They've shared a bed for the better part of two years, not to mention the fact that they've practically dry humped in front of their friends.

Harry tips his head into Louis' hand and wrinkles his nose.

Louis smiles back and lets his hand pull back, moving to dig into more of the crepe. Louis' not even gone back to Africa yet, and Harry already misses him. 

\---

Harry's been wondering why Louis' been going hot and cold during the two weeks, but he tells himself that it's fine. Theoretically, after all of the deployment training that the welfare office gave him, he knows that Louis feels like a guest in his own home, and that's causing him to feel awkward. But he's clearly happy to be home, and Harry feels as close to him as ever. 

And he swore that the whole Harry-sleeping-with-someone-else was fine, so that can’t be it.

When Louis walks into the living room holding a bottle of laundry detergent and looking disgruntled, Harry can't help but feel like this is the moment he's been waiting for. The one that all of the other Army spouses warned him about: the honeymoon being over.

"All packed up?" Harry ventures.

"Is this a new kind of detergent?" Louis asks, face rumpled like he has a personal vendetta against Mountain Freshness.

"Maybe," Harry answers, sitting up and closing his magazine. "I usually just buy what's on sale."

"Before, there was that one that was softer. This one smells like piss."

Harry nods. "Okay. I'll try to find the other one for when you get back."

When the words leave his mouth, he realises his critical mistake. See, they had been pretending that Louis wasn't going back. They were ignoring that this was temporary, and the fact is that tomorrow-- in just a few hours, really-- Louis will have to get back on a plane and head back to Nairobi.

"What else are you going to change when I get back?" Louis asks, almost like it's a challenge. Harry spots Louis' defenses. 

"What are you even talking about?" Harry asks, trying to placate Louis. "It's soap."

"It's not just soap, Harry. It's everything. The entire last two weeks have been just me fumbling around trying to figure stuff out, like I'm visiting my aunt or something."

Harry shakes his head. "I don't understand."

"It's the soap, it's the routines that you have set up with Perrie, the hemp milk, the new place you put the remote control. I could go on-- why the diet Digestives, Harry? I hate that shit. Why not chocolate?"

"What? I just," Harry sighs, swinging his legs off the sofa and onto this floor. "I don't understand. I'm the same person."

"We're not the same people, Harry. That's the point. You've got a life here, and friends here. And then the thing with that guy,” he sighs. “I've seen things I would never want you to see. I just want to know that there's a place here for me."

Harry blinks, mouth open. He thought Louis was over it, or didn’t care about the guy in the pub. That’s what he had said. Even if Harry still aches at the memory, he aches more at knowing that Louis is upset with him. He’s not sure how to communicate this with Louis. He’s not even aware how he can sum the idea that marrying Louis, moving out here, making all these friends, even that horrendous blowjob in the loo, all of that really brought his relationship with Louis into perspective. Despite all of the other stuff, Louis is still the beacon, the light. 

"There's the biggest place for you here. You don't even know,” he sighs instead, grasping for words. “You're being ridiculous."

"Don't tell me how I'm being," Louis argues. Harry drops his head in his hands. For people who don't fight, they've been doing a fair bit of it the last few months. And even in this conversation, every time he feels like he's getting somewhere, he fucks something up.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that. I just... I can't believe after all this time, you don't believe how important you are to me. Fuck, Louis, if you want sugar-ed up biscuits, I'll buy two kinds."

Louis drags himself over to the sofa, dropping down right next to Harry. He throws the bottle of detergent on the table carelessly. 

"Sorry. You're fine. I..." Louis trails off. He tips his head back and squeezes his eyes tight, like he's trying to make sense of the thoughts in his head. Harry just waits there, turning so he's facing straight ahead again, feeling Louis' leg brush up against his. 

Harry hates that this is happening right now. He wishes he could feel happy with the time they got together, but everything is now coloured with this guilt. He wishes he could take it back. He wishes Louis would stop picking a fight with him to make leaving in the morning easier. 

"No matter how many times everyone told me to get my expectations in check, it's not enough. I don’t know what I was thinking," Louis mumbles. "Like I'd just get back here and nothing would have changed? Like you'd be here, just sitting and waiting for me to return and entertain you. Shit."

Harry blinks. "I wish I had done a better job of making you feel wanted here. Or cared for."

"That's not true at all," Louis sighs, leaning forward onto his knees. Now their shoulders brush and another part of Harry feels untethered. What are they even saying to each other right now? "You cooked me, like, every meal I love. Cauliflower cheese. Sunday roast. Incredible."

Harry nods, but doesn't respond. In fact, he's not even sure if his vocal chords will work at all right now.

"I don’t really want to go back, and I'm not good at coping right now."

And that hurts Harry. It hurts like a lightening strike to his own chest, because there is nothing he wouldn't do to help Louis. 

"Let me," Harry says, turning to face Louis. Harry's eyes go cross looking into Louis', and that's how Harry realises just how close they are. That Louis smells like the laundry detergent he hates so much, and the stubble on his cheeks are more than a few days there, and if Harry were to get any closer, it might rub him raw. And Harry does want to get closer. "Let me take care of you."

The words are barely whispered, a ghost out of his own mouth, but it takes all the strength in him to get them out. Because for the last two weeks he's just been thinking that once Louis leaves, Harry will be able to get over this intense attraction to him. He's just kidding himself, though. Realising he was in love with Louis was like learning about gravity-- now that he's aware, he can't go back to pretending it doesn't exist. It's there. Pretending he doesn't know the name of this feeling doesn't make it stop being true. 

Louis nods, slowly, slower than Harry had ever thought it was possible to move one's vertebrae. "Okay," he whispers, just as soft, and Harry doesn't know why they're being so quiet when they're so alone. It's as if they were in a fragile bubble, ignoring the history of their friendship and the fact of Louis' imminent departure.

Louis bridges the gap first, though, and despite their proximity, Harry gasps with the pressure of Louis' lips against his. 

It's instant, the feeling of happiness and lust that swells up inside of him. He holds himself back, trying not to throw himself at Louis like he wants to. Play it cool, Styles. He lifts his hand up to Louis' neck, feeling the low pulse underneath his thumb. He brushes it there, feeling the goose pimples rise up on Louis' skin.

Nerves run through Harry, realising that he drew that reaction out of Louis.

Harry thinks about the last time they kissed, and he has a hard time pinpointing it. Was it when Louis left for Africa? They've only really hugged since he's got back, and Harry would be lying if he said he didn't miss it.

Harry didn't let himself dwindle on it before, what with them firmly in a platonic zone, but Harry loved Louis' mouth.

Like now, the way his bottom lips sticks out, fitting perfectly in between his own. Harry nips lightly at it, drawing a smile out of Louis as he moves in for another kiss. 

"Harry," Louis whispers, and it sounds reverent, like music to Harry's ears. 

Harry pulls back, thinking Louis has something to say, but Louis chases the kiss instead, drawing him back in for something more heated, knocking the breath out of Harry completely.

Harry reaches up with his other hand, framing Louis' face, using the leverage to snog Louis to the best of his ability. 

Before, kissing was all performance, all show. At that club, it was all about how ridiculous they could look, how close they could grind on each other. It was all one big joke to them-- how serious everyone thought they were, how in love.

It's almost a relief, the privacy. And yet, Harry has never felt as much attention on him in one single moment as he does right now.

He wants to know what Louis is thinking right now. Is he just looking for another coping mechanism or does he want this? Does he want _Harry_? Harry almost pulls away to ask, to say something, but stamps down the urge. He’d rather have this here and now than risk ruining everything. So much stands on this one moment, delicate like an unraveling thread. 

Louis' hand slides up the back of his t-shirt, resting on his lower back. The heat sears into him, causing Harry to arch closer to Louis. Louis responds in kind, his fingertips pressing in, and Harry wants nothing more than to have Louis' hand drift lower.

But no. Actually, there is something Harry would want more.

Harry wants to take care of Louis. He wants to take him apart, have him wordless and senseless. To make him forget all about leaving tomorrow, and at the same time, make sure he never forgets this.

Maybe... if Harry can do all of that well enough, Louis might be convinced to let Harry stay. And to let Harry love him.

Letting go of Louis' face, Harry's hands drop down to his own t-shirt, hovering around the hem. For a moment, he's unsure of whether he's moving too fast, but then again, it wouldn't be the first time Louis has seen Harry shirtless. 

Shaking himself out of his nerves, Harry grips the hem and tugs his shirt off, just barely pulling himself off of Louis just long enough to get the shirt over his head. 

Louis grins at him, eyebrow raised.

"What?" Harry laughs, feigning self-consciousness. "I was hot."

Louis laughs in return, nodding, before running his hand down Harry's chest. For a moment, Harry forgets to breathe, their proximity and the fact that Louis is the one running his hand down his smooth chest oddly foreign to him. 

Harry inches his way closer to Louis, trying to fuse the two of them together. His skin brushes against the soft cotton of Louis' t-shirt. He tries to catch his breath, but all he takes in is the smell of that stupid detergent and the shampoo that they've been sharing, all citrusy and sweet.

He pushes Louis back, reclining slowly against the armrest of the sofa. Louis' hands roam his back, and one settles at the back of his neck, playing softly with the tendrils that hang there.

"Love that long hair," Louis murmurs against Harry's lips.

Harry desperately hopes that means that Louis loves him. Or is in love with him. He's already known about the former.

"God, take that off," Harry says, instantly embarrassed by the desperation in his voice. 

Louis sits up as much as he can with Harry seated in his lap, and tries to tug the shirt up and over his head. Predictably, his ear gets caught, and so it's with eager hands that Harry helps him get it the rest of the way off.

"Always knew you had a big head," Harry mumbles, as the shirt flies somewhere off to the other side of the room.

"Shut it," Louis laughs, pulling the two of them back together, like two ends of a slinky that crash back together.

The slide of their skin together draws a moan out of Harry. Everything feels... so much. Harry's touched a million people in the course of his life. He's met and shook hands with so many people, he's hugged so many people, he's even slept with a few, but nothing compares to this. To feeling how charged he can be just because his and Louis' chests can graze against each other. The world is an amazing place.

Once the shirts come off, it's like a temperature shift, things becoming instantly more heated. Harry doesn't know where this will end, really. Harry hadn't specified what taking care of Louis really meant. Harry's not even sure, beyond worshipping Louis forever. He's scared that any moment now, Louis could just sit up and shove Harry off and say he's changed his mind. Or he's uncomfortable with what they're doing, and that this was never part of the agreement.

And he would be right to. It would just shatter Harry's heart a bit.

Louis lifts his hips the slightest bit, like he's trying to nudge Harry, but he wants to be subtle about it. He feels the bulge of Louis' dick against his denim-clad thigh, and god. They're not even grinding, and Louis is hard. 

Harry could faint or die happy.

He pushes back a little bit, letting more weight down into his crotch and lowering himself closer to Louis' level.

Louis moans into Harry's mouth, and he swallows it eagerly.

Harry wishes he could bottle that sound up and play it every day for the next three months.

Without overthinking it, Harry pulls back and pushes down again, trying to get a slow rhythm building. Louis' arms scratch lightly on his arms and back, trying to catch some leverage, something to hold on to. 

Harry's eyes flutter, unable to stay completely open as he counts out his beat, feeling their erections strain against each other, so close and yet, still separated by a couple of layers.

Life can be cruel sometimes, but Harry thinks that at this point, getting Louis out of his trackies might not be impossible.

Harry leans down, licking and sucking at the juncture of Louis' neck and chest, not trying to leave lovebites, but unable to believe that this is happening. That he's grinding and breathing heavily against Louis.

Louis' breathy sighs have him doubling his efforts, his hands shaking with the desire to reach for his waistband.

"Shit," Louis moans, his arm abandoning its spot on Harry’s back and moving to flop over his own eyes. _God_. He's so responsive, Harry thinks, and it only turns him on more. Louis fucking likes it. Louis likes Harry's naked chest against his, and likes Harry's hips pressing into his own, and he likes Harry sucking at his neck.

This is all beyond Harry's dreams.

Then again, Louis hasn't actually been with anyone in over two years. And while Louis wouldn't be quick to call it a dry period (like Niall or Zayn would), it's a long time to only have your own hand for company. Maybe anyone could make Louis feel this good. 

A burst of indignance blossoms within Harry's chest, because no. It has to be Harry that makes him feel this way. Harry can't just let this be something random. Louis needs to know that this works best because of how they know each other, that all their history can build towards this amazing experience.

Harry's hand drifts towards the waistband, Louis shivering as Harry's fingers dance down.

"Shit, I am so pathetic," Louis laughs. 

Harry shakes his head, smiling before leaning down to capture Louis in a heated kiss, lingering and leaving him breathless.

"It's amazing," Harry says, looking down at Louis' flushed chest, his hand hovering at Louis' hip.

Scooting back and bending over, Harry sucks little kisses right on Louis' chest, feeling the heat of Louis' skin through his lips.

He moves slowly down his chest, leaving a row of kiss marks in his wake. When Louis' crotch is touching his chin, he moves to the side and sucks a kiss into Louis skin, still somehow getting a mouth of cotton from where the waistband dips just below his hip.

Harry's hand still hovers over the waistband, a fact which Louis has surely noticed. God, Harry feels like he's at a watershed moment of his life. Once he tugs Louis' trousers off of him, he's never going to want to put them back on.

Sitting back on his heels, Harry takes in a whole picture of Louis, flushed and already panting. 

"Bed?" Harry asks. If it were up to Harry, the word would have come out sounding smooth and confident, alluring and seductive. Instead, it kind of comes out all breathy and unsure, like he's nervous Louis will say no.

Because that is part of his fears. Harry worries that the change of scenery might just take them out of the whole thing. Louis might realise that he doesn't want Harry, or doesn't think that it's good for their relationship. There are a million things that could go wrong.

"Yeah, god yeah," Louis says, laughing a little at himself as he tries to sit up.

Harry jumps off of him immediately, wiping his own sweaty palms on his jeans.

Louis' not far off behind him, grinning and turning immediately to the bedroom, practically jogging there.

Harry doesn't shut the door behind them, but he does hover in the doorway for a moment, looking over at Louis, shirtless and wanting.

Shaking himself out of his stare, he bounds towards Louis with renewed energy. Louis leaps towards him as well, and this time when they kiss, it's like there's the force of a decade of desire between them. So unlike their kisses before, but to Harry, so much better.

His hands find Louis' waist again, thumbing at the band. Harry feels Louis laugh against him before Louis pulls himself back a couple steps, just outside of his reach.

"Do you want them gone?" Louis asks, gesturing down at his joggers.

Laughing at himself, Harry nods.

It's with a swift tug that Louis brings the rest of them down, stepping out of them as they drift to the floor. 

God, Louis is beautiful. For all of his golden arms but paler chest, for his straining cock and his muscular thighs. 

Harry will never be able to unsee this moment.

Louis points at him wordlessly, causing Harry to point at himself with his eyebrow raised.

"Your turn," Louis says eventually, eyes drifting down to Harry's jeans, his hard-on evident from where it's tucked.

"Nothing you haven't seen," Harry laughs again, fingers shaking as he fumbles with the button. Pulling the zipper, he tries to slow down, half to give Louis a show, and half in fear he might snag some skin with his eagerness.

He makes sure his socks come off as well as he peels the jeans down off his calves. Without stumbling, a mere miracle, he manages to kick them away and stand up, facing Louis again. Naked and hard. The jeans land off in the corner, near Louis’ deployment bag, already packed up, which Harry is very much ignoring. 

They just stand there for a moment. Harry even feels awkward, wondering if this is the moment this all comes crashing down.

But it's not, because Louis reaches out and grabs hold of his wrist, tugging him in and aligning their bodies.

They kiss hungrily, and Harry feels his head spinning with the joy of it. 

Thighs trembling against each other, they just fit together.

Harry guides them back towards the bed, but stumbles when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He thought that would be a little bit further. 

Louis giggles against him as they tumble back onto the mattress, Harry scootching back towards the pillows as Louis crawls over him.

Harry pulls him down, relishing in the feeling of Louis' sweat-slick skin sliding against his, covering him, making him feel engulfed.

With their bodies aligned, it's hard for Harry to hold back from rocking against Louis. Louis' eyelashes flutter against Harry's skin, and Louis responds in kind, rocking slowly, barely noticeable if not for how wound up they both were.

Harry nudges Louis' head up for a kiss, and when Louis moves to kiss all over his face, his cheeks, his forehead, the swing of Louis' necklace tries to make a break for Harry's eye.

"Your necklace is trying to blind me," Harry says, laughing and petting the chain dangling in front of him. It's always looked better on Louis anyway.

Smiling and sheepish, Louis pulls back just enough to pull it over his head and let it slink down into a pile on the bedside table.

Harry uses the moment of distraction to his advantage. When Louis turns back to Harry, Harry quickly rolls the two of them over, leaning in to catch Louis' laugh with his mouth.

He dips his head low, sucking at the juncture of Louis' neck and chest. Louis' arms wrap around him, digging and pressing into the skin and his lower back.

Louis' hands dip lower, resting at his lower back, and all Harry wants is... but now isn't the time. Harry wants to take care of Louis, like he said he would. He wants to take Louis apart, worship him, make sure Louis never forgets this night.

"Flip, flip," Harry says, breathless, pulling off of the spot from Louis' neck. 

Louis complies quickly, glancing over his shoulder back to Harry like he's not sure what Harry's going to do back there. 

Louis' neck arches back seeking a kiss that Harry leans forward to give, all tongue and spit and gracelessness. Both of Harry's hands drift down to Louis' arse, smoothing his palms against his cheeks, and he can't even help the moan that comes out of his own mouth. Harry can't seem to stop touching Louis, knows it'll make it all the harder tomorrow when he won't be able to. He has to make this worth the next three months.

He pulls away from Louis mouth, letting his lips drag behind Louis' ear as he reaches the nape of Louis' neck. One time, years and years ago, Louis mentioned a guy that turned him on a lot by kissing his neck. Harry remembers this now, and sucks lightly at the spot, shivering as Louis' head drops down.

Harry's hand curls around Louis' hip, then slips forward like it's hovering just above his cock. He settles it just on his pelvis, nestled into the coarse hair there.

He kisses down the nobs of Louis' spine, trying to give each one some attention. He feels Louis squirm underneath him, and while he never thought Louis was ticklish, he thinks that maybe Louis' just unused to this kind of attention. 

When he gets down to Louis' arse, he lets his breath pour over the hole, just kind of staring it down.

"Harry," Louis grits out, a voice from somewhere above him, "are you going to...?"

"Yeah," Harry says, voice gritty and dark.

"I didn't even--" Louis starts.

"It's okay with me," Harry says, getting close enough to lick tentatively at the hole. Above him, Louis sighs at the contact, and Harry can sense from here that he's resisting the urge to push back into Harry's face. 

He presses his hand tighter, holding the two of them closer together, while he dives in again, practically smushing his face into Louis' arse, everything earthy and hot. 

Harry's world narrows down to the feeling of Louis trembling around him. Harry hasn't done this too much in his life, but he knows Louis loves it. Louis will talk shamelessly about it, encouraging Harry to try it, but Harry always just shrugged it off.

He wonders if the last ten years were just one really, really long research period, in order to have amazing, incredible sex. 

"Oh shit," Louis sighs again, and Harry smiles against Louis hole, making it hard to continue his actions. He'd love to keep a count of how many times Louis swears, how many times he loses composure. 

Harry pulls back just to catch a breath before diving back in, probing his tongue in, feeling the way Louis shakes and stutters. Trying to keep balance, he slides the hand above Louis' dick down to wrap around it, earning a sigh from Louis. Harry's half-surprised Louis wasn't wanking already, but maybe he wants to make it last. Harry's own erection is getting hard to ignore, but he's already pushing his multi-tasking boundaries by attempting to eat Louis out as well as wank him off.

He worries that his hand might be too rough, and he moves it up and down, slowly as to not rub Louis too raw. He pulls himself back quickly and licks his palm roughly a few times before sliding back into position.

"Oh," Louis sighs again, and Harry collects this one, too. He could collect all these little noises and play them again and again in his mind. He'd buy a whole record of Louis' little noises.

"A little faster," he grits out, causing Harry to hum in understanding. He redoubles his efforts, pulling at Louis faster than he thinks his wrist is up for. But he'd drool all over himself and sprain his own wrist if it meant that Louis could come at his hands.

"Harry," Louis groans, and there it is, his own name on Louis' lips. He doesn't even realise when he began rutting up against Louis, trying to get some friction off his calf. He can't help moaning again, the sound vibrating around the two them. He pulls back just enough to dip lower, mouth at the back of Louis' balls, thinking that might be just enough. 

"I'm coming," Louis grits out, and Harry keeps going, ignoring the pain in his jaw, the soreness in his wrist, and he feels his hand on Louis' cock get a whole lot slicker. He continues pumping, waiting for Louis to give him some kind of signal that he's done. 

"God," Louis sighs, trying to catch his breath as he's slowed underneath Harry. Harry pulls his mouth and hand off him, sitting back on his heels.

Harry doesn't think twice before snaking his clean hand down to grab hold of himself, aching with the barest amount of friction to get him through.

Even with his eyes shut, Harry can feel the bed shift as Louis turns around to watch him. God, he wants to put on a show, but he's just so desperate for release. His cock throbs with each pull. He ghosts his own hand to grope his balls, and it's the memory of his mouth on Louis, and Louis' reaction to Harry's mouth on him, that has him coming across his hand, mouth slack and deep groan being ripped out of him.

He drops down on to the bed, technically Louis' side, arms splayed out in defeat.

"Both hands," he laughs, holding both tacky and come-covered hands up. Louis wrinkles his nose up with laughter.

He listens for a moment as Louis catches his breath before he drags himself up to trudge to the loo.

First, Harry washes his hands, shaking his head at himself while doing so. Then he brushes his teeth, making note to probably go pick up a couple of new toothbrushes on his next grocery run. 

When he gets back into the bedroom, balancing two cups of water, he sets them down on the table, and moves to open up the window to air the room out a bit. 

Louis isn't asleep, but he doesn't look particularly useful, just kind of smiling as Harry settles back into the bed. 

It isn't long before Harry's eyes get heavy, and the weight of Louis' head on his chest is a welcome feeling. He falls asleep to the sound of Louis letting out a little sniffle against him.

\---

When Harry wakes up, there's sunlight streaming through the open window, and Harry can hear some of the birds chirping away. He blinks against the brightness, his brain still catching up to his consciousness, and he thinks about how it actually seems like it'll be a nice day. 

Maybe he'll go for a long run after he drops Louis off in order to take his mind off things.

In sitting up, he realises that Louis' not in bed. Harry's a pretty light sleeper usually, so he's kind of surprised that he didn't wake up whenever Louis slipped out. He listens to the sound of a faucet or a banging pot, anything to give him a head's up to Louis' location in the flat. 

Scrubbing at the side of his face, he glances around, taking in the sight of the room. Clothes scattered from where they flung them last night.

Harry jolts when his memory catches up to him.

Louis was leaving early this morning. Earlier than the sun. He had only bitched about it for the last couple of days.

His eyes dart directly to the corner where the bag had sat the night before. All he finds in the corner are yesterday's jeans.

He leaps out of bed, unsure of what to do or where to go. Should he call the welfare office just in case his flight was delayed? Should he call Niall? Should he make sure Louis hasn't been kidnapped and hasn't just left of his own volition without waking Harry up?

Harry looks back and forth across the room, unsure of his next move. He pulls a pair of pants out of the drawer, and when he turns to put them on, that's when he spots it.

Louis' necklace lying forgotten on top of the nightstand.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry thinks, not for the first time, that he really must have messed up in a previous life.

His brain currently feels like it is _on fire_ , and he's jittery, thinking about how much he needs to talk with someone about what's going on. But the thing is, he's currently in the car, listening to the engine refuse to turn over, and wondering who he must have upset to deserve all of this at once.

The irony of him not being able to leave the barracks is not lost on him.

Lowering his forehead to the steering wheel, he takes three slow breaths, in and out, expanding his rib cage with each breath. Zen. So very, very zen.

He had left the necklace on the bedside table, not sure what to do with it. Putting it around his own neck just didn't feel right-- it wasn't his anymore, anyway. Hasn't been in some time. He had briefly thought about packing it and mailing it with a little care package, but then his own insecurities hit him hard. What if Louis had meant to leave it behind? 

And even if Louis hadn't meant to leave it behind, and it was an accident that he forgot it, the fact that he never bothered to wake Harry up and say goodbye still stood. Louis could step on a fucking mine, so yes, Harry is still angry. He doesn't care what Louis does in Kenya, he could be saving a child's life right now, but Harry is still cross with him.

Lifting his head off of the steering wheel, he rubs at his forehead, willing the mark left there away. He counts to ten before turning the key, listening to it whine and then kick in. Harry presses the accelerator, just enough for it to rev up and act alive a little bit.

Unsurprisingly, he looks down to spot the check engine light on. 

\---

Part of him had been bursting at the seams to tell Niall about what happened when Louis left. He needed to get it all off his chest-- and who better than the person who knows the whole truth about their lives?

Except when Harry drags himself into the shop, he suddenly feels a heavy sense of embarrassment settle on his shoulders. 

"Hey," Niall greets cheerfully, spinning on the stool in the empty shop. "How're you feeling?"

Harry shrugs and waltzes over to the practice room, flicking the lights on and making sure it's ready for his lesson.

"Okay," he says.

"Just three more months," Niall says, trying his best to cheer Harry up. Harry appreciates the effort, in theory, except that Niall's not really offering optimism that applies to his situation. Because even if Louis does only have three months left of his tour, when he comes back they'll still have to sort through all of this... stuff. 

"True," Harry agrees mindlessly, pulling out the spray bottle of cleaner. The biggest reason he even pulled himself into work today was because of his lesson with Presley. Otherwise, he'd be starkers on his sofa watching telly and feeling sorry for himself.

He's not his most upbeat self during the lesson, a fact that surely Presley notices. Not that the boy says much anyway, but he doesn't roll his eyes as much, which Harry suspects might be a kind of pass.

"Did Louis go back?" he asks as he snaps his guitar case shut.

"Yeah," Harry answers, crossing his arms. "How'd you hear?"

Presley shrugs. "Didn't. You just have the look. Like my mum does or my friends do when their parents head off."

"It's just another three months," Harry says, repeating Niall's earlier words. But the words sound hollow to him, because it's not just three months, is it? 

When he gets back to the flat in the evening, he grabs a beer from the fridge and sits down at his laptop. He methodically goes through their bills-- rent, loans, heating. His mood perks when he remembers he finally finished paying off that horrible credit card bill, but then sobers again when his fingers hover over the keys.

He's curious, but he worries that even typing the words in could bring everything crashing down.

Instead, he gets up from his spot and walks over to the tap to fill up a glass of water, which he sips as he paces between the kitchen and the living room. Any time he gets too close to the sofa and his laptop, he turns around, pacing back to the kitchen. At one point he abandons the path that he has been wearing a hole into, and he drags himself to the bedroom, thinking that at least he could close the curtains on this day. He takes one look at the chain still piled on the bedside table however, and vaults himself back to the sofa. 

He might even end up sleeping here tonight.

He brings the computer back down onto his lap, and looking at his cursor blinking at him from the address bar, he thinks of what to type.

_How to get a divorce_

His fingers press heavily into each key, and only when he presses send does he understand what it all means.

They had been saying it since before they got married-- getting divorced was the only logical way out. 

He has been a first-class fool.

Before he can even click on the first result, he lets his head drop into his hands, his whole body wracking with guilt and sadness, and he lets himself feel.

\---

"He's coming back in less than three months," Perrie says again, but Harry can't really spare too much thought because Zayn is curled up against Perrie where they are all sitting in the pub.

On one hand, Harry is surprised that Zayn and Perrie have even left their flat while Zayn's been on R&R, but on another hand, now all Harry can think about his what Zayn knows. 

Zayn looks down at his lap while Perrie says this to Harry, and that's when Harry realises _Zayn knows_.

"What has he told you?" Harry asks him. 

Zayn looks up, trying to school his face into something sheepish. For all his training, Zayn still doesn't make the best liar. He's just too laid back.

"Zayn."

"He told me something happened," Zayn says, gesturing for Harry to fill in the blanks.

"What happened?" Niall asks, leaning in, apparently interested in the story. Niall, bless him, has become immune to Harry's moping.

Zayn looks at Harry pointedly.

"Holy shit," Harry says, "He really did tell you."

"Tell you _what_?" Perrie asks, getting impatient.

Zayn looks at Harry for a long moment, like he's trying to judge if Harry would actually be okay with him telling their friends about the night before Louis left. In all honesty, Harry would find it a bit of a relief. The embarrassment of telling them himself is mostly what's been keeping him from doing so. He might as well just have Zayn do his dirty work for him.

"Well, Louis told me that you, Harry, did some dirty, dirty things to him."

Harry can't help but laugh at that. For a moment, it's almost like he can hear Louis' voice saying that to Zayn.

"Woah!" Niall shouts as Perrie lets out a squeak. Their outbursts lead to a few looks from the tables around them. 

"So is this, like, official?" Perrie asks, leaning forward to grab onto Harry's forearm.

Harry shakes his head.

"And did he tell you what happened after that?" 

Zayn shrugs at that, and Harry's not sure how to interpret that.

"I mean, the fact that he left the next morning without saying goodbye kind of says it all, I think."

"No," Perrie coos. "He loves you, for sure. I'm sure there was a reason for why he didn't say goodbye."

"And," Harry adds, since now that he's finally talking, he may as well just put in everything. "He left behind the necklace I gave him. That was a symbolic gesture, and he knows it."

Tilting his head, Zayn kind of thinks about what Harry's said. "I think you might be overestimating Louis' planning abilities, here. I think it's more likely that he forgot it?"

Harry waves him off.

"I think it might be time to speed up the, um, end of our agreement," Harry says, staring down into the glass.

"What?" This time, the echo comes from all three of them. 

"I mean, it was always going to happen anyway. And the whole point was so I could find some stability. My credit card is paid off. We're in okay shape financially. I could kip with Niall--" he adds, which earns him a surprised look from his friend. "I'm not entirely sure what we were thinking, but I feel like we need to end this now before we really shoot our friendship in the foot for good."

"But Harry," Niall points out, "You want to be with Louis. You're in love with him."

"But if he doesn't want to be with me, I can't just sit around and wait for him. I have to have a life. He wasn’t even bothered when I hooked up with that guy. I think we had our chance, and Louis leaving without so much as a goodbye tells me that he doesn't want to take it. I have to accept that."

Zayn fishmouths at that. He clearly has something he wants to say, but Harry isn’t sure that anything could help him at this point.

"Are you going to talk to him about it though? Or are you just going to straight up serve him divorce papers?" Niall asks.

"Eventually," Harry answers, taking a sip of his beer. "But I've managed to avoid talking to him for a couple weeks. I'd like to see how long this can keep going."

\---

As it turns out, not long.

And it's all because of Louis' stupid, stupid car. Harry hates this car.

It stalls on Harry while he's heading back to the barracks from high street, and by the time he gets it to a mechanic, it turns out the whole thing is one massive fire hazard and shouldn't be left on the road.

Harry can't say he's surprised there.

He texts Sophia to come get him, not daring to interrupt Zayn and Perrie's R&R time again. She shows up quickly, and together they do some preliminary research on cars.

Of course, Harry feels like he's in a bit of a morally gray area.

This is not technically _his_ car. Sure, his name has been on it since Louis left for Sandhurst, but it's not his. Louis bought this car himself, and has been so possessive of it since, shushing anyone who slights it. It would be wrong to replace it without telling Louis.

So Harry unfortunately sucks it up and reaches out to Louis. He decides it's not enough of an emergency to warrant phoning all the way across the world, so he settles for a quick email.

_Hey just a head's up that the car is a piece of trash and can't be on the road anymore. I'm buying a new one. Maybe you want to suggest what you want your next car to be?_

Harry reads it over. While it does sound a bit passive aggressive, he thinks it gets the point across. Hopefully Louis will get back to him soon, since he doesn't fancy taking the buses in and out of town for too long in order to get to work.

It's a couple days later when the phone rings, and almost like he's psychic, Harry knows it's Louis on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" he says as he picks up.

"Harry," Louis greets. It's the same odd way Louis has always greeted him.

"Hi," Harry responds, not sure where to go from there. He had been talking a big game the other night about being mad at Louis, but suddenly Louis calls and he doesn't dare ask Louis what happened the night before he left. 

"I don't have long," Louis says, and of course that's no surprise to Harry. It feels like Louis starts every conversation that way. _I don't have long. I don't have much time._

"Okay," Harry agrees, as he returns to his previous task of washing the spinach.

"What's going on with it?" Louis prompts.

"Totally rusted through," Harry answers. "Trouble starting. The whole nine yards."

Louis hums on the other line and Harry tries to picture it. He closes his eyes and thinks of Louis in Africa, but all Harry can see are the stereotypes on telly. Sometimes the fact that he's on the other side of the world is more apparent than others. 

"So what have you seen, then?" Louis asks.

Harry thinks about the prices he and Sophia had found on their online browsing. "There was a Volkswagen that seemed like it'd be alright nearby. Used, but in good shape. Within the budget, I think."

Louis hums. "Whatever you think is best."

Harry sighs, because Louis clearly doesn't understand.

"It's going to be your car," he says, annoyance slipping through. "I'd hope you'd have more of a say."

"I don't know what the budget is, Harry."

Harry gets a little tetchy at that. "I can't always be here taking care of your finances, Louis. So if you have something to say, say it now, because I'm going to go finance this car, and if you don't like it, you'll still be stuck with it when all is said and done."

"Oh. Okay."

Harry sighs, and hopes that it doesn't sound as despondent on the other side of the phone.

"Are you settling back in okay?" Harry asks.

"Yeah. It's fine. Like I never left," Louis responds. "Listen. I do have to go. I'll call soon."

"Alright," Harry drawls.

"Love you, bye."

"Love you too," Harry squeezes out, because isn't that the truth? The reason he's hurting so much is because of how much he loves Louis? Because he sees their potential to be so much more than just pretending?

\---

It takes a week and a couple of glasses of merlot before he's typing out another passive aggressive email to Louis. He blinks at the white space he's expected to type in and he thinks about all of the other people in his position. How many partners spew poetic words into this box, trying to communicate how much they love and miss their soldier? 

_Okay, so I get that you don't want to talk about it, but I still want to know what made you just up and leave without saying goodbye._

Since that's all he wanted to say, he presses send without another thought. 

\---

"Have you been listening to that Stevie Nicks track I sent you?" Harry asks, plucking away at his own guitar, modeling for Presley.

"Yeah, he's alright," Presley answers. It's obvious his mind is elsewhere.

Harry's eyebrows raise.

"You know, Stevie Nicks is a woman," he answers slyly, looking back down at the neck of his guitar. He’s fairly sure they’ve had this conversation before. 

At that, Presley's head whips up and he looks at Harry. "That's stupid," he says.

Harry barks out a laugh at that. "It's not stupid. It's true."

"Who would name their daughter Stephen?"

"Stephanie," Harry corrects, still chuckling at Presley's indignance.

"Dumb," he says again, refusing to let it go, before he turns and gets his music ready for their practice.

Even though it sounds impossibly corny, Harry feels like he hasn't taught Presley as much as Presley has taught him. Sure, he can see how much better Presley's fingering is, and how natural he is at tuning at this point-- he hardly needs the app to help him. But at the same time, working with Presley has changed his whole world. 

For the first time since he left school, Harry feels like he has a purpose. If he doesn't go to work, Presley doesn't get a lesson. In the record shop it always felt like it didn't matter if he showed up or not, but he knows that this means something to Presley, even if he is a sour thirteen-year-old who thinks the greatest female rock performer's first name is dumb. 

Even more, he likes the attitude that comes with working with kids and teens. Presley's dry wit makes him laugh at least once a lesson, even if Presley doesn't want to admit his own humour. He had briefly entertained looking at Music Education programmes, considering how much he looked forward to the lessons.

But ultimately, he figures, the reason he likes it so much is because he has gotten to know Presley on a deeper level. While he's never been a teacher, he imagines that it's hard to get to know at least 60 of them all at that level. He much prefers the one-on-one aspect of it all, and that's partly why he's returned to the prospect of music therapy.

He's started the research even, trying to figure out what he needs to do in order to get there. For the first time ever, a five-year plan doesn't seem so scary.

It sounds kind of exciting, actually.

He's been googling all sorts of schools that have programmes in expressive therapies and art therapy. The problem he's found, though, is that he can't just _become_ a music therapist by the end of the year. He needs a postgraduate degree for that.

And of course, here he is, without his bloody bachelor's degree.

Before he can get too down on himself, however, he kicks himself into gear and thinks about taking things one step at a time. It's okay if things take a while to marinate. Some things are worth the wait.

The biggest problem-- the elephant in the room, really-- is Louis.

Harry needs to talk to Louis, really talk to him, to figure out what's going on. Harry understands that Louis is a busy person, what with being an officer and having all sorts of responsibilities. He gets that. But at the same time, Harry can't just keep waiting for Louis' life to settle before he goes after his own.

Harry has always wanted adventure, new things. It was part of what attracted him to Louis' marriage offer in the first place.

He just needs to figure out what's going on in Louis' mind. If Louis thought their one night together was a fluke, then Harry just needs to get over it. It won't matter if he tries to untangle himself and find somewhere else to live or study. He could probably make new friends in university, even if he is a bit older than other starting students. Granted, they wouldn't come with the history that Louis comes with, but they wouldn't come with the baggage, either. 

But if Louis meant it, if there's some other reason that he left without telling Harry, if there's some chance for them to work it out and actually _try_ \-- genuinely-- then he needs to figure out how to make his goals work, too. He needs to figure out if he should be looking at programmes further away or if he should be pushing to start a course near them as soon as possible. 

Louis' job will move him in another few years, so if Harry wants to finish his degree before that happens, he needs to scramble to make the UCAS deadline. 

But, then again, all of that hinges on what Louis wants. 

Harry knows what he wants. He wants Louis to be honest, and he wants Louis to work with him. 

Everyone always says such nice things about Louis to Harry, and Harry always feels good, like yes, that's his best friend. Even at the beginning of their marriage, Harry used to preen, but it almost feels like he's lost that privilege a little bit. Like he's coming to the realization that it's not his place to feel that way, as if Louis' successes have any reflection on Harry.

Harry wants that.

Mostly Harry just feels that driving force within him for the first time in a long time. He's ready to work for things, ready to take responsibility.

He hopes that Louis wants that too, but if he doesn't, then Harry is just going to have to deal with the fallout.

He promises himself that he'll put together his list of courses tonight, and he'll give himself opportunity for both. Either he gets into a programme in Belfast and he and Louis work it out, or he and Louis get the divorce and Harry heads somewhere else for a new start.

Even as he thinks it, the latter option feels a lot like running.

\---

The Volkswagen isn't new by any means, but it runs and doesn't sound like it's about to shut off in the middle of driving.

Harry signs the paperwork with Perrie next to him, there for moral support and a second set of eyes. 

He feels minorly guilty as he hands off the two sets of keys to the dealer, since it was never really his car to begin with. Louis loved his car, and never complained no matter how much Harry pointed out how it was falling apart. 

He knows it's a car, not a person, but he still wonders if Louis feels okay without having made his peace with losing the car.

Pulling back into the barracks with the new car is a spectacle, a testament to how quickly word spreads.

"Much better," says Lou, little Lux by her side, nodding in approval.

"Definite improvement," Niall agrees, eyeing it in its spot in front of the flat.

Harry just hopes Louis agrees, too.

\---

Harry, Niall, Sophia, and Perrie are tucking into dinner when Perrie's phone starts vibrating on the countertop. 

She excuses herself to go check it, something she always does in case it's Zayn calling. Harry understands that one-- nothing is worse than seeing a missed call and not being able to return it.

"Babe," she coos into the phone, causing Sophia and Harry to smirk at each other. 

"Just sat down for dinner," she explains, walking back towards them, phone firmly pressed to her ear. 

"Hi Zayn! I love you!" Niall calls out, leaning toward the speaker.

Perrie giggles and put her phone up loud.

"Niall!" Zayn laughs, "I miss your ugly face."

"Aw," Niall laughs, hand pressed to his heart.

"Who else is there?" 

"Sophia and Harry," Perrie explains. 

"Oh! Hey, guys! Alright?"

Both Harry and Sophia agree and say hi, Harry with a mouth full of ravioli.

"Wait, Hazza, since I have you," Zayn starts, "Do you think you could send a couple of things to Louis? That deodorant brand he likes? And his necklace?"

Harry balks at that, not risking a glance at the others at the table.

"Are you his messenger now, Zayn?" he asks, and he hopes it sounds more wry than bitter.

"No," Zayn laughs, "I think he was going to call you anyway. But he's been whinging up a damn storm about that necklace."

"And the deodorant?"

"Right."

Harry hums, and then agrees, because he doesn't know what else to do with any of that. 

They chat for a few minutes, Zayn updating everyone on his family. They steer clear of the mission, which almost makes Harry feel better. It's clear that all of the soldiers avoid Army talk while talking with home, not just Louis. 

When they say goodbye, Perrie takes the phone into another room to say her own goodbyes. It's sweet, really, and it makes Harry's heart clench even more. He wants that. 

His eyes meet Sophia's, remembering Liam's confession of their marital troubles. He never brought it up with Sophia, always feeling a bit more allegiance to Liam, but he hopes it's gotten better. He'd hate to see the fallout of their divorce. 

\---

Sure enough, he gets a call from Louis soon after.

"Hi," Harry greets, muting the telly.

"Hey," Louis responds, voice stilted. Clearly he had received Harry’s short and drunk email. Harry had secretly hoped that it might just get lost in the void and never make it to Louis.

"Zayn said you wanted me to ship some stuff out to you," Harry says, not being able to take the silent break for long. 

"Yeah, um. Yeah," Louis responds. There's another moment that goes by. "Like my necklace, especially. And some more of that deodorant. Anything else, really."

Harry hums. "Homesick?"

"A bit actually, yeah," Louis says, sounding more comfortable. "I called Mum the other day and the girls weren't around. They were all off doing stuff, so I didn't get to talk to them."

"Oh yeah, Fizzy's art lessons are pretty frequent now," Harry muses. 

"Yeah." Louis sighs briefly, so quiet that Harry just barely picks up on it across the line. "So listen. About your email."

"Oh," Harry says. Here's the thing: Harry had desperately wanted to know what had been going on in Louis' mind, but here and now, he feels his heart lodge somewhere in his stomach. "I mean, I had a couple before I sent that, so..." he trails off.

"Right," Louis says. "Well, I do feel really bad about leaving, I just... freaked, I guess. I didn't mean to, like, slip up like that."

"What do you mean, 'slip up'?" Harry interrupts.

"Just that I didn't mean to mess up our arrangement like that." Harry rolls his eyes at the use of 'arrangement'. "I mean, we were so adamant before that we would never do that with each other."

"Have sex," Harry interrupts. 

"Yeah," Louis responds. "Have sex. But then, that night happened. And I had to leave in the morning anyway. There wasn't exactly time for a conversation about what that even meant. I still don't know what it means. Do you?"

Harry squeezes the bridge of his nose. "No," he sighs. "Not really." He curls up into himself at that, tucking his sock-clad feet underneath him. "Well, I was really ticked at you for not waking me up," Harry adds on. "Still am, a bit. Even if we didn't have time to hash out all of our thoughts, you could have at least said goodbye. I've only had my own mind for the last few weeks, and trust me, I've thought of every possibility for you just leaving without notice. And forgetting your necklace."

"Yeah, I want that back. Can you please send it? I was just... frantic, and trying not to wake you up. I didn't even realise that I didn't have it until I was on the jet. I went to go grab it, and that's when I realised I left it. I just didn't know how to go about getting it back. I didn't even have to talk to you to know you were mad at me. And you had every right to be. I was a dick."

"Of course I'll send it back," Harry says quietly, mind reeling. He understands that Louis accidentally left it behind, so it's not so much that he's upset about that anymore. But now he's even more confused because surely it means something to him since he wants it back. Because if it didn't mean something, then why would it matter that he'd go without it for three more months? Now Harry can't even figure out of if he's more frustrated that Louis wouldn't want it, or that he does. 

"Thanks, Harry," Louis responds, and he sounds lighter, even, like him worrying about Harry's feelings was that heavy a load on him. 

But even so, Harry still has no idea what's going on in Louis' mind.

"I'm doing a little research," Harry says, broaching the subject, "on going back to uni."

"Wicked," Louis says.

"I guess, I'm just wondering what you think of that?" Harry asks. "Like, I'm wondering if we should, um." He pauses, unsure of how to phrase what he's trying to say. He wants to know if Louis actually wants to be with him, because if that's the case, then he wants to focus his studies near Belfast. He'll worry about postgrad wherever Louis gets stationed next, bearing the idea that they might be... together?

"Do you want to get a divorce?" is what comes out of Harry's mouth instead. Immediately, he wants to slap himself because that wasn't how it was supposed to be worded, but it's kind of along the lines of what he wanted to know.

Silence hangs on the other line; he had clearly caught Louis off guard. 

"Uh, really?" Louis asks.

"I mean, if you were on board, it would be easier to figure it out. I wouldn't ask for anything, obviously. I'd start my own bank account and you could keep the car and all that."

"Have you been doing research on this, too?" Louis asks.

"Only a little," Harry says, trying to be honest.

"Well, no," Louis says. "I don't really want to. I think you shouldn't let something silly like us having sex ruin this."

"Something silly," Harry repeats, voice dull. "Right. Something silly like sex getting in the way of a marriage."

Louis grunts, a sign of his frustration.

"Ugh, listen to yourself, Louis. We're married. We have a shared bank account. We have the same families, the same friends. The only thing different from us and our other married friends was the fact that we didn't have sex."

"It doesn't have to happen again," Louis insists.

Harry drops his head down on to the cushion, pressing his face into it so Louis doesn't hear the frustrated groan he lets out.

"You're so missing the point," Harry says.

"I guess I don't understand the point."

"The point is this: you don't want to get a divorce, even though that was always the way this was supposed to end. Why do you even want to be married then? I don't want to stay in this if you just want me here to handle your funds and pine after you."

Harry kicks the pillow across the room as he says that, punting it so that it almost knocks into the telly.

"I'm really not sure how to respond to that, Harry."

"Okay. Well. I'm applying to different courses. I'm just trying to do something. Own my life."

"I get that, Harry. But why does this have to stop working?"

Harry thinks it over, chewing on his bottom lip. Brushing under his nose, he sighs. "It's not meant to sound like an ultimatum. I just want you to actually want to be married to me, like, for real."

Even in his head, he knows it sounds a bit... extreme. They're not even dating, so that's an awful big leap. But they're already married, so extreme is just the kind of way he works. 

"Listen," Harry says, eager to get the jump on Louis for once. "I have to go. I'm late for a shift at the shop," he lies, hoping Louis doesn't do the time zone math and realise he's fibbing. "I'll send you the package within the next couple of days. Hopefully it gets to you soon."

"Okay, thanks," Louis murmurs, still clearly lost in thought.

Harry goes to say 'love you', like they normally sign off, but he feels like he's cut himself open a bit too much already, and lets the words hover behind his tongue instead.

\---

"Mum," Harry whinges, walking towards her in the arrivals gate. Realistically, he knew that the closer to Christmas he flew to Manchester, the more insane the ticket prices and the crowds would be. That said, the shop saw a considerable uptick in business in December, having seen more parents buy big-price instruments and invest in lessons for their children.

Harry would be taking on a couple more weekly lessons, a thought that was more and more exciting to him. Between starting to teach more and hopefully heading back to uni in the autumn, the upcoming year looked like it might actually be a good one.

"Oh, love, I'm so happy to see you," his mum says, barely holding herself back from peppering kisses all over his face. He may be an adult, but his mother has no worries about embarrassing her only son, especially when she hasn't seen him in months.

She pulls back to get another look at him. "You're so thin," she says, frowning.

"No, I'm exactly the same as before," he says, grabbing ahold of the handle for his suitcase and dragging it through the gate. "Though I suspect that this holiday will give me a little more insulation to work with."

"Too true," Anne agrees, pinching his cheek once more. He laughs, pulls away, but can't help the happiness settle. Christmas always brings that contentment in.

He wishes Louis could be here with them. Even if he's still unsure where they stand, last holiday was so perfect with all of them together, he wishes it could be that way again. 

"Now update me on my lovely son-in-law. I haven't heard from him in a bit."

Harry shrugs. "He's fine."

Anne spares a glance over at him. "Well, colour me convinced," she drawls. It's moments like this where Harry realises he really is his mother’s son.

"It's nothing," he insists. 

"Really, Harry? Because you have a pattern, you know."

"What pattern?" he asks, turning towards her.

"When things are good in your life, you're big and involved and everyone can tell how great things are. But once something goes wrong, or things aren't working the way you want them to, you clam up and hide away. Don't think your lack of communication has gone unnoticed since Louis' visit."

Harry groans. His mum really does have him down. 

"Sorry, Mum. Just things with Louis are hard right now, with him being gone. Without him on base, I feel like such a phony."

It isn't a lie. Part of him always feels like he's living someone else's life on the base without Louis around. 

When they get back to Holmes Chapel, Harry immediately stalks up to his old bedroom to put his stuff down. The luggage bumps uncomfortably against the wall, and he hopes he doesn't leave any dings in the wall because of his own lack of coordination.

He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and he thinks about home. This home. There are boxes piled up along the wall that are leftover from when Harry and Louis left Bristol, and then even some more from when they left Holmes Chapel the second time. There are items that are strictly Louis' here-- like those photo strips and that stuffed animal he won at the carnival that he always meant to give to one of his sisters, but never ended up doing so. It's odd, then, how intertwined their lives really are. Their families are each other's as well, and they've done so much with each over the years, there's no way it could ever be a clean split. They were idiots to think they could ever extract themselves from this marriage cleanly.

"Do you still want to head over to the Tomlinsons' for tea?" his mum asks, startling him from his thoughts. His body jolts with it, and she looks almost concerned for catching him off guard. "We're still heading over to exchange gifts tonight, but if you're poorly..." she adds, trailing off.

Harry shakes his head, sitting up. 

"No, of course I still want to go," he responds, shaking out his hair. It's much longer than it used to be. And to think that when he was in secondary school-- when his hair shaking habit was at its worst-- he thought his hair was radical. Now it's long enough to tug into mini-buns if he's feeling ambitious. It's long enough to start using conditioner. 

"Okay," his mum responds, a smile growing. "Is an hour good for you? I just want to make sure that there's enough time for the cauliflower to finish cooking."

"Yeah, sure. I better get moving and wrap the girls' presents."

"Oh, what a good brother-in-law you are," his mum coos, causing Harry to roll his eyes. "I'll go snag you some paper from the other room."

It's only as he's just finished wrapping Fiona's gift that his mum reappears in his doorway to check in on his progress. 

"Are you almost ready, love?" she asks, coat in hand. He nods, gesturing to all of his presents.

"I feel like I deserve some kind of prize for fastest wrapping," he laughs, feeling a little bit lighter.

He helps Robin load all of the gifts into their car and the food in the boot, before he clambers into the back seat and finds himself dwarfed by piles of packages. 

"I probably could have walked," Harry mumbles as he hitches his knees closer to his body, folding himself up like origami.

"It's just a short drive," his mum says as she starts up the car, Robin laughing away in the passenger seat.

As always, the Tomlinson house is full of life, and Christmas Eve is no exception. Growing up, it was a double party-- between Louis' birthday and the holiday itself. It's no surprise to see Daisy and Phoebe at the door, hair plaited and wearing dark velvet dresses.

"Hello, ladies," Harry greets, giving them both a two-armed hug. Even though it's only been a couple months since he's seen them, he feels like they've both shot up a bit. Soon they'll be too mature for holiday dresses. "Give us a twirl, then."

They both do, knocking into each other as their skirts poof up with air, giggling the whole time.

"Come help me unload the prezzies from the car," he whispers to them. They clap and agree-- possibly because it's the easiest way to ensure that they actually get presents.

"Are these from Louis?" Phoebe asks, staring down at a box labelled that it's meant for little Ernest. 

"They're from both of us," Harry explains, trying to balance boxes in one arm as he reaches for the other.

"Right, I know that," she says, and yes, Harry realises, she's starting to develop that preteen attitude. It reminds him of Fizzy, even, and that makes him feel old. "But I mean, did Louis actually help with this?"

"Of course he did," Harry lies, hoping they believe him. "We talked about all this when he was home for rest."

The girls seem satisfied with that idea, skipping back into the living room with a box in their arms each. They place them delicately under the tree-- a stark difference to Harry struggling to balance multiple arm loads at once.

With everything inside the house, he finally gets the chance to take off his jacket and warm up. He even slips off his boots and lets his sock-clad feet pad into the rest of the house to see who he can greet.

"Hiya Harry," Lottie says as she spots him, rushing over to give him a tight squeeze. He presses a kiss on her cheek when he realises that now Fizzy's waiting to say hi.

"Hey Fizzface," he greets as he pulls her in.

"I miss your ugly face," she says in response. It's as close to a compliment as he's getting from her. He smiles, loving her odd brand of humour.

"Mum's in the kitchen facetiming with loverboy," she says, jerking her head back in the direction of the kitchen.

"Loverboy who?" Harry asks, eyebrows knitting together.

"Yours," Fizzy responds, looking at him as if he might have an IQ of about 70. 

"Louis, as in your brother?" he responds, reaching out to mess up her hair.

She squawks, leaping back and out of the way. She moves to step on Harry's vulnerable feet. "Watch it," she laughs.

He's not the most eager to talk to Louis, even if it is his birthday, considering their last conversation all but ended with an ultimatum. Harry actually suggested divorce, even though he doesn't really want one. But he really only wants to be married to Louis if Louis wants to be with him. He can't keep living this life, buying gifts for these kids and living in that flat if it's not real.

"Hi," he says shyly, peeking his head into the kitchen. Dan and Jay are sitting directly in the view of the laptop, while Anne, Robin, Gemma, Mitch, and Fiona sit off to the side. 

His hopes of sneaking away without having to have an awkward stilted conversation are suddenly dashed upon realising that his whole entire family is waiting to talk to Louis.

"Harry!" Jay says, face lighting up as she pushes her chair back. She wraps him up in a warm hug, smelling like roast and comfort, and he closes his eyes and takes it all in.

As she pulls away, he wonders if this is the last Christmas that they're all going to spend together.

She doesn't go too far, though, since she keeps a hold on his wrist and drags him into the line of the camera.

Harry shifts from foot to foot, wishing that he had lied to his mum earlier and bailed from the party.

When he finally looks into the camera, Louis looks equally as uncomfortable.

"Happy birthday, Lou," he says, leaning closer to the camera. It's about all he can come up with at the moment.

"Thanks," he says in response.

There's a silent beat, something that resonates with all of them in the room. It dawns on everyone all at once that something is terribly wrong.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gemma and Mitch exchange a worried look. He can almost picture the look his mum and Gemma exchange. Almost a telepathic 'did you know something about this?'

Harry moves to step out of the camera view, feeling sufficiently embarrassed in front of his family, when Louis makes an odd sort of choking noise.

He looks back at the camera, confused.

"Wait--" Louis says, actually reaching out, like he'd be able to hold Harry back from leaving.

Harry stops, staring down at his mismatched socks against the tile.

"I really need to talk to you. I haven't had the chance, and I don't get the chance to Skype often," he says.

"I know," Harry responds. It's always phone calls. Seeing Louis' face is a treat, even if the bags under his eyes look a little bit deeper than they did during his visit home.

Louis scrunches up his nose, eyes darting over to his own mum, before he just holds his hands up. "Look, I'm just going to say this, then. I really, really, really don't want to get a divorce."

As soon as the D-word comes out of his mouth, mayhem erupts in the kitchen. Harry's eyes widen, but he doesn't let them stray from the camera, though next to him, Jay and Anne are freaking out. 

"Divorce?" Anne gasps.

"No," Gemma echoes. "No way."

"Oh Lord," Harry groans, leaning forward and unplugging the laptop from the charging cord. He presses himself between Jay and Dan to pick up the computer itself before rushing off with it. "Sorry, Jay," he apologises as he hustles out of the kitchen, laptop in tow, trying to escape the disaster.

He bounds up the stairs, laptop screen cradled to his chest, mind whirling. Even though Louis is still on the line, he isn't making any noises or saying anything, so Harry wonders if he's hung up, or if he's just enthralled by the close up of the obnoxious pattern on his Christmas jumper.

He kicks the door shut behind him, but gently places the laptop on the desk before stepping back into the line of the camera.

"Did you just run off to my room?" Louis asks.

"How long do you have to talk?" Harry asks. "And are you really just leaving me to deal with this fall out from our families, too?"

Louis drops his face down into his hands, shoulders shaking. For a moment, Harry worries that Louis' just burst into tears on camera, and here he is, thousands of miles away, with nothing to do about it.

When Louis looks back at the camera, though, Harry can tell that Louis is actually laughing.

"Holy shit, I can not believe I just verbal diarrheaed like that," is what he says.

Before he can even help himself, the corner of Harry's mouth twitches. "You really fucking did," he points out.

"Ah, shit." It's something in the tone of his voice, the self-deprecating sarcasm that is just so _Louis_ , that has Harry's twitch evolving into a lip purse, holding himself back from laughing. He can't even find it in himself to be mad, because the way that Louis is blushing and covering his own face up is so reminiscent of how they used to be, Harry doesn't even mind.

When Louis looks at the camera again, he can see that Harry isn’t mad, that Harry is barely holding back from laughing at him, and that's what gets Louis. He laughs again, pinching the bridge of his nose, which is what causes Harry to finally cave in and laugh himself.

It's not even that funny, but it feels cathartic to Harry, like he's finally letting his anxiety go. He was worried about talking to Louis tonight, and yet here they are, not talking, but it's easier than it's been since they slept together. That they might just pull themselves out of this okay.

"Oh god," Harry says, trying to catch his breath again. "You really know how to give our families heart attacks."

"Mum is going to kill me," Louis says, arm propping his head up again.

"Nah, she'd never," Harry says, dismissing it. "She loves you too much. Plus the whole deployment thing works wonders in making her forgive you."

There's a moment of quiet that falls over their discussion, and only as Harry's words catch up with him does he realise how Louis might have taken that.

"Is that how it works?" Louis asks.

Harry shrugs, picking at his cuticles.

"What did you mean?" Harry asks instead, looking back up at the camera. Louis doesn't shy away, just sits up more, like he's getting ready for war. It's the look Louis gets in his eye when he puts on his kit.

"I don't want a divorce, Harry," Louis says, voice soft.

"Right, I know you said that, but maybe I wasn't clear before. I need you to want to be married to me _for me_."

Louis smirks, which takes Harry by surprise. "What makes you think I would want to be married to you for any other reason?"

"Um, maybe this whole charade?" Harry laughs, gesturing around him. 

"Yeah, but how many times did we say, 'Oh, I can't imagine being fake-married to anyone but you?' I don't just fake-marry anyone, Harry."

Smiling, Harry tilts his head. "Right. But as a friend."

Louis sighs, deep and full of drama. Harry suspects he's putting on a show.

"I feel like I'm the one not being clear enough, I guess. Harry. I don't want to get a divorce. Not because we're friends and it's easy, because obviously, this isn't easy. But I don't want to just give up. I want to be _with you_. I want to be married to you. Because I'm in love with you, and maybe this wasn't the best way to do this, but we're kind of fuck-ups, so yeah. Sorry."

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry says, an incredulous laugh leaving him. A grin spreads across his face before he can even help himself.

"I mean, if you don't want to be married anyway, I get it. We can figure it out when I get back, but I get the sense that maybe you don't... want to be divorced, really. That maybe, you might be in love with me too?" And despite the smile on his face, Louis' voice wavers slightly, betraying his confidence. 

"And what gave that away?" Harry asks, seeing his own dimple deepen in the video box at the bottom of the screen. 

"I think it was probably the phone call," Louis says, "Though maybe I should have figured it out when you ate my arsehole."

Harry cackles at that, holding his hands over his mouth to prevent his loud crowing from disturbing the rest of the house. He really, really hopes that there are no little ears pressed up against the door trying to listen in.

"Yeah, why am I in love with you again?" Harry muses.

"So you are," Louis says.

"You know I am," Harry laughs, flushing red.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to hear it. Can't let the marriage get stale," he teases.

"Oh Lord," Harry groans, smiling as he throws his head back. "Despite all of my best efforts, Louis, I am terribly in love with you. You just had to go and head off to Kenya to make me realise it."

Louis glows, and even though Harry's known him for ages, he's never seen him this happy. Not at the Commissioning Parade, not when he finished uni, maybe not even when the littlest twins were born. 

"Does marrying me count as 'despite your best efforts', then?" Louis laughs.

"I never said my logic was good," Harry says, and god, he can see the hearts in his own eyes. He'd be more embarrassed if it doesn't look like Louis was brimming with excitement, too. 

The evening has taken quite a different turn than expected.

"So wait," he says slowly, his thoughts catching up to him. "Is this a recent development for you?”

He watches Louis on the other side of the screen, other side of the world, gnaw on his bottom lip for a moment before shaking his head.

“It’s, um. It’s been a while for me. I guess I just thought you didn’t feel that way. That this was all temporary. And then when you hooked up with that guy, I just… I think I lost hope.”

Harry’s mouth opens in shock, and he struggles for a minute how to respond. “I was torn apart by that. I felt like I had made the biggest mistake of my life because it wasn’t you, and then there you were all, ‘it’s okay, we made that agreement.’”

Louis settles his chin into his hands. “I mean, that was what I was telling myself. That was the agreement. You were free to make your own choices. And I think I had just been kidding myself, thinking that you were mine, that what we had was real.”

“It is real,” Harry insists. “I don’t want that agreement. I don’t want anyone else that isn’t you. I know that now.”

Louis smiles into the camera, tapping his fingers against his chin. 

Harry feels himself start to well up, exhausted emotionally and overwhelmed with sentiments. He hates that he hurt Louis, that Louis had hurt him. But at the same time, he can’t help but smile, because here they are. They might be able to figure this out.

“God, no one could hold a candle to you, Harry,” Louis sighs.

Harry lets out a watery laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I know you're in Africa and all, but does this mean we can like, date?"

"Can one date one's husband?" Louis asks, pretending to twirl his nonexistent beard in a philosophical manner.

"I think so," Harry says, grinning.

"Cool. I agree."

"Cool."

"Swell."

Harry hides his face, giving himself a moment to pull it together.

"Niall's going to kill me. I've been driving him crazy," Harry says. 

"I'm sorry again," Louis says, like he needs to get it out. "I just panicked, thinking about how you didn't need me, and I just left. I was such a shit, and I regretted it instantly. I've been driving Zayn crazy, too."

"I get it," Harry says. "I was upset, but I get it. It's why I panicked too."

"I think what we've learned from all of this, is that while we can do our own thing, being partners in crime works best for us."

Harry grins again, his cheeks aching, looking down at his ring, feeling the engraving of the words on his skin.

"God, we've been the idiots all along, haven't we?" he laughs.

Louis nods from the other side of the screen.

"I mean, all it took for us to figure out that we belonged together was over a decade of friendship, a fraudulent marriage, and thousands of miles in between us."

"Easy peasy," Harry says. 

"Have I mentioned that I'm in love with you?"

"Mmm," Harry hums, "Yes, but I don't think I'll get sick of hearing it."

"Good, because it's still true."

Harry chuckles, and pretends like he's wiping sweat from his forehead. "Good to know you haven't changed your mind in the last fifteen minutes. Do you want to talk to your family again, or are you going to make me clean up the mess?" Even as he says it again, the question is lighter, teasing.

"Like you said, I have deployment trump card. And birthday trump card. It's the best."

Balancing the laptop with his right arm, he opens the door, pleased to find no one hovering behind it.

He pads down the stairs, Louis quiet again, when he hears a hush fall over everyone else in the house. It's suspiciously quiet, being that none of their family gatherings are like this, so Harry knows they still must have been all in a tizzy over Louis mentioning divorce.

"Harry," Anne says as he walks back into the kitchen, placing the laptop on the table. "What's going on?"

"Everything's fine, Mum," Harry says, taking a couple of steps back and leaning against the fridge. He spares a glance at all the food out, needing to be reheated.

"What's this about a divorce?" Jay asks, concern still in her eyes.

"No one's getting a divorce," Louis says, voice still tinny over the speaker. "Harry and I... well." The two of them lock eyes for a moment and smile at each other again, private. "Well. We're really in love."

Off to the side, he hears Fizzy whisper, "Weirdos," to Lottie, who snorts in her hand.

"When it comes down to it," Louis says, clearly embarrassed at the amount of sappiness pouring out of his mouth, "I just know that there's no one else I would ever want to be married to."

"Well, that _is_ convenient, isn't it?" Jay chuckles, shoulders sagging in relief.

Harry beams while still looking at Louis. "Yeah, it is."

Their private little bubble is burst by Dan clapping his hands, snapping them both out. "Should we do presents while the food heats back up? Louis, how much longer do you have?"

"I've gotten a fair bit of extra time today with the holiday, but it's getting late and officers have to be up early to cook for the soldiers tomorrow."

"Oh no," Anne gasps, thinking of Louis attempting cooking.

"Right?" Louis agrees. "But yeah, I can chat a little bit longer. I miss you all bunches."

"Two more months," Harry says, voice soft. Two more months until he finally gets Louis into his arms for real. He had no intention of messing that up.

\---

Harry has always felt that winter after Christmas was the worst. He doesn't mind the cold before Christmas, since it adds to the ambiance, but after, it just seems to taunt him. He'd rather have a birthday in the warm weather anyway, but since that's the only thing that separates him from Louis coming home (and spring, but mostly Louis), he deals. 

When he gets back to Belfast, life kicks in hard, but even with the cold and miserable weather, Harry's world feels brighter. 

The flat is already theirs, and it feels that way to Harry now. Before there were times where it felt like just his, or that it was rightfully Louis', but now Harry sees how all of the parts of them come together in this flat. The photos on the walls are of the people in their lives, of each other. The lists on the fridge aren't just in Harry's handwriting-- there's the note that Harry can't bear to throw out from when Louis was on R&R. 

He feels more settled, more sure of his role in Belfast.

God, he misses Louis, just as bad as before. Now that he has permission to kiss Louis, and touch Louis, he wants the actual opportunity to do so. 

Stupid deployment system, he thinks to himself. Who came up with that whole plan anyway?

"The UCAS deadline is Tuesday," Harry moans, asking for Niall's opinion for another read through.

"I don't know why you're asking me, mate," Niall argues, "I can barely read. Ask Pezza-- didn't she go through uni?"

Harry swivels in his seat, setting his most appropriate puppy dog eyes on Perrie, who sits in the other chair, whistling away, pretending that she can't hear them.

"Pezza, my love, my light," Harry starts.

"Oh, now that you and Louis are on, you're acting like a bloody poet," Perrie sighs, laughing and breaking character.

"Will you read this for me?" 

Perrie gives a big sigh, playing it up. "Of course, hand it over. Since your future depends on this and all."

"Love you," Harry agrees, passing his laptop over so she can read through his application again. He's looked over it a million times. He's poured over every detail. He's written about why uni didn't work out the first time and why this time will be better. He's figured out which programmes to send it to (although Queen's University is definitely his best bet, being so close and all). He's uploaded the sound bites of his instrumentals. He's so ready. He just wants one more person to give him a thumbs up.

Just as she grabs ahold of the laptop, Harry's phone starts vibrating. No known name attached to the number.

Harry's heart leaps up to his throat and his palms start itching.

There was a time-- not too long ago, actually-- where any phone call from an unknown number would have sent Harry running in the opposite direction. In his prior experience, these tended to be bill collectors trying to hunt Harry down for not paying one thing or another.

Now, though, he associates these unknown numbers with Louis.

"Louis? Hi," Harry greets, breathless as he manages to accept the call on time. 

"Oh, Christ," Niall moans right before he hauls himself out of his seat to amble into the kitchen. Harry rolls his eyes and smiles, excusing himself so he doesn't distract Perrie from the important mission at hand.

"Hi," Louis says.

"Hi."

"Hello."

Harry laughs as he pads up the stairs. "How's it going?" he asks, avoiding another awkward 'hi' from escaping him.

"It's okay. Basically counting down the days until home at this point."

"Yeah?" Harry asks. "But won't you miss it?"

Louis stays quiet for a moment. "A little bit. Some of the children are the sweetest, and I'll miss them, but I've got a bunch of stuff waiting for me at home."

"Stuff?" Harry asks, grinning into the line.

"Yeah, stuff. Like this guy."

"Oooh, a guy," Harry teases. "Tell me more."

"Well, he's really passionate. And great with kids. And he always thinks he's funny, even when he's not."

"Hey," Harry protests, "am too."

Louis hums. "So have you submitted your application yet?"

Sighing in to the line, Harry murmurs, "Not yet. Perrie's looking it over now. Hopefully will send it off tonight."

"Ace," Louis says. "So smart. Your mum must be ecstatic."

"She'll be more ecstatic if I actually get in. And finish this time."

Louis laughs on the other line, and it fills Harry up with such joy. "I'm telling you, H. As someone who has known you a long time, and who is completely and utterly unbiased, of course you're going to get in."

"You don't know that," Harry murmurs, laying back against the pillows on their bed.

"Of course I do. When you set your mind to something, it's basically yours. What Harry wants, Harry gets."

"Hey," Harry protests, "That makes me sound spoiled."

"Not at all. Just that making up your mind is most of the battle."

Harry laughs. "You're such a doofus."

"A doofus? You wound me."

"Ugh, when are you coming home again?"

"Three and a half more weeks," Louis says.

"And what? Fifteen hours?" Harry chuckles.

"Fifteen hours, twenty-five minutes, and ten seconds," Louis insists.

"Liar, liar," Harry laughs. "You’ll miss my birthday, but be just in time for Valentine's Day," he says off-hand, using his finger to trace swirls in the duvet cover.

"Indeed," Louis says.

"Does this mean you're going to be my valentine this year?" Harry asks. His reflection in the mirror shows him blushing-- again.

"Pretty sure I was your valentine last year, too," Louis says.

"For real," Harry clarifies, although he knows Louis understands.

"For real," Louis agrees.

Harry hasn't stopped feeling those butterflies since Christmas, and suddenly they start up again, kicking him hard in the stomach and reminding him that yes, this is real, and yes, he and Louis can actually work it out.

He's not sure why they pretended so long, anyway. 

"Just three more weeks," Harry insists.

"And fifteen hours, twenty-five minutes, and ten seconds."

Harry laughs again.

"Hope our friends and families aren't anxious to see you. I don't plan on letting you out of the flat for a couple of days."

Louis groans at that, and Harry hears a soft thump that he imagines is Louis’ head tilted back against a wall. 

"God, I hope not," Louis says, voice deeper than usual. "Now that I know how you can use that tongue."

"Mmm," Harry agrees, "And since you're thinking about it--"

"Hazza!" Perrie calls up the stairs, shocking him out of his sex-talk bubble. He hadn't even gotten started.

"Thinking about...?" Louis asks.

"Oh, um, I forgot," Harry laughs. "Perrie is yelling upstairs to me."

"Okay. Well. Send her my love."

"Will do," Harry says. 

"Soon," Louis reminds him.

"Soon."

"I really do love you. Like, a lot. Like, saying 'I love you' doesn't even seem strong enough. Is there another phrase?"

Harry chuckles. "Well, tell me if you figure it out, so I can use it too. But in the meantime, I love you. Also."

"Bye," Louis says one last time, before hanging up and leaving Harry with his thoughts. Since he's still alone in their room, no one is around to judge him when he starts thrashing and kicking his feet in his enthusiasm.

Somehow, the stars aligned on this one. 

\---

If there's one lesson Harry has learned from all of this-- the last couple of years, marrying his best friend, moving to another new area, starting a new life path-- it's that life goes on.

When Louis left, Harry's life still happened. With them in Belfast, their families' lives still happened.

Things change, people evolve. But the other lesson Harry's picked up on all of this is that there are some people that are made to weather change. It seems now that Louis and Harry had been in a stalemate for so long, depending on only each other, refusing to let the other out of their sight. They were both guilty of irrational jealousy. But once they broke the cycle, allowed each other to breathe, to grow, what they were able to develop into was something even more special.

Harry had, for a long time, thought that there was nothing more special than having the same best friend for his whole life. 

Now, though, he realises that having the same best friend be the person that best complements him is just as good, if not better.

"I think Harry's about to spew," Sophia says, though for all intents and purposes, she doesn't look that much better herself. The four of them-- Sophia, Perrie, Harry, and Niall-- all hover by the door in the waiting area. It reminds Harry oddly of three months ago when he was standing here waiting to pick Louis up for R&R. 

Life has taken a bit of a turn since then.

"Did you get much sleep last night?" Niall asks, holding up his phone in an attempt to video record the process.

"No," Harry says, patently ignoring the camera.

His stomach jerks uncomfortably. Not only did he not sleep, but he hasn't eaten either, too nervous to do more than just look at a packet of biscuits.

It's just... Louis is coming home.

And Harry hasn't seen him in person since that last night, when Harry had finally gotten to lay his hands on Louis and treat him the way he deserved.

Even though they've talked several times, and each time Harry can hear the happiness in Louis' voice as Louis tells him he loves him, Harry can't help the fear rise up in his gut. What if it was all some fluke? What if Louis didn't _really_ have feelings for him and he just got all caught up in missing home and Harry just happened to be so familiar to him?

Harry kind of enjoys the fear, though.

Next to him, Perrie shifts side to side, unsure of how to process her excitement. There are so many people all around them-- neighbours, other families, and soldiers from other platoons. 

"So Harry," Niall tries again, stepping into Harry's line of vision with his camera, "How are you feeling right now?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry responds, "Excited. Nervous."

"And Perrie?" He asks, swiveling to zoom in on her face, mascara thick and striking.

"Buzzing," she says, her hands clasped together, held tight against her chest.

"Soph?" 

"Elated, really," Sophia says, eyes shining.

She looks like Harry feels, all glowy, and it strikes Harry then that there had been a time not so long ago when Liam had worried things wouldn't work out between the two of them.

He thinks that distance really can make the heart grow fonder.

But then again, as he watches the plane descend across the strip, his heart pounds harder, and even though he thought it was impossible, he falls even deeper in love.

The friends and families push outside to greet the returned soldiers.

"This is sick!" Niall exclaims. "I've lived here for ages. Never seen a homecoming."

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Harry mutters, and Sophia's joke about him spewing everywhere suddenly doesn't seem so funny.

"Breathe, mate," Niall says, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

When the stairs roll up to the plane, the crowd starts whooping and cheering, clapping excitedly. Perrie starts crying, though she's trying to be subtle about it.

A couple of months ago, a year ago, whenever, he would have thought of all of this as ridiculous. It wasn't the most dangerous deployment that's ever happened, and it was only six months.

But at the same time, it was six months, and for him, it was just Louis, but for some of the other people around them, it was fathers and mothers and sons and daughters. 

Then again, missing Just Louis was enough.

He lets out a squeak when he spots Louis’ head dip out of the plane. The crowd of soldiers make it hard for him to gallop down the steps, but when he takes a hop off the last rung, Harry's heart expands because in the last decade, Louis may have gotten more responsible, but he's still the same.

Louis stops dead in his tracks as he spots Harry as well, even from twenty meters away. 

Even from the distance, Harry sees Louis' insecurity in his body language.

Zayn brushes past Louis, knocking into his shoulder as he makes a break for Perrie.

Perrie shrieks and runs forward, flinging her arms around Zayn in a grip that might make an octopus envious. 

Louis starts walking towards him, steps determined but slow. Harry, in a similar feat, feels rooted where he stands, eyes wide and nervous.

It's entirely possible that he looks like a deer in headlights right now. 

"Oi," Louis shouts, when he's within hearing distance, and that makes Harry laugh, because they're basically staring at each other. Louis has his attention.

His laugh causes him to look down at his feet, and when he looks back up, Louis is right in front of him, within arm's reach and everything.

"Oh," Harry gasps, rocking on his heels.

"Hi."

"Oh, let's not start this," Harry laughs. 

"Well, here I am. Returned from war, et cetera," Louis says, opening his arms as if to gesture his presence.

"You were not _at war_ ," Harry laughs. The rest of the argument dies in his throat, however, as Louis steps even closer, eyes glancing up to meet Harry's.

Suddenly, Harry feels very vulnerable. At the same time, though, he's already laid himself on the line-- he doesn't have anything to lose.

"I'm going to kiss you," Louis says.

"Ace."

"And it'll be because I want to, and I'm back from Kenya, and I've missed you terribly. And because I'm in love with you. Not just because I want people to think I'm in love with you. I'm pretty sure they can already tell."

Harry grins, not caring about getting the last word, before he leans down at the same time that Louis presses up, and even though they've kissed countless times before, fire erupts in Harry's stomach, his bloody soul even, because it means something more. They both know that. There are no excuses except that they fancy each other mad and they want to spend as much time as possible attached to each other.

He hears a low whistle behind them, but ignores it in favour of wrapping his arm around Louis, feeling the rough fabric of his uniform. He shivers involuntarily when Louis' hands come to rest on his waist. They need to get back to their flat-- the sooner, the better-- because Harry has spent a long time without Louis' hands on him, a fact which needs to be rectified. Immediately.

They just manage to pry their faces apart, bodies still fused close together, enough to tip their temples up against each other. All around them is chaos, families reuniting, tears of joy and excitement, but the two of them spend one more moment locked within their own world.

"Yay, you're home," Harry whispers, just enough for Louis to pick up despite the noise.

Louis nods against him, scratching Harry's face with his stubble. 

Harry doesn't even mind.

Louis shifts his head without pulling away, spotting Niall next to them with a broad grin on his face and a phone pointed directly at them.

"Niall, you prick, are you filming this?"

"Just making memories, mate. Welcome home."

Louis pulls away and launches himself at Niall for a tight hug, both of them slapping each other on the back in the ultimate symbol of male friendship.

Harry takes the opportunity to turn and reach out for Zayn, tugging him into a hug. He won't even tease Zayn for crying.

\---

"You're naked," Louis points out as he pads into the kitchen at the sound of Harry cooking.

Harry fakes shock, looking down at himself, and then back at Louis, a grin forming despite his best efforts at acting.

"This is nothing new and you know it. Besides, what's the point in putting on clothes when I know you're just going to rip them off of me. I don't want to lose another button up. They make me look smart and scholarly."

"Mmm," Louis agrees, nodding and stepping closer.

When he gets in his space, Louis nuzzles against Harry's cheek, pressing light kisses against his jaw.

"Food is important, babe," Harry insists, the nickname slipping out without his permission. "Too much sex and not enough food leads to passing out. How would we explain that to our parents?"

Louis laughs against him. "I think they'd have figured it out anyway."

"Are you wearing briefs?" Harry laughs, letting his fingers drag down to thumb at the waistband of Louis' pants.

"Seems like it," Louis murmurs.

"Where'd you even get them?" Harry asks. "Wait, are those mine?" 

Louis looks down at them, eyebrows knitted like he's trying to figure out the same. "Might be," he says as he scratches his head.

"Oh god, we're one of those couples," Harry laughs, throwing his head back and arching his body into Louis'. "Sharing pants."

"Well," Louis says, "To be fair, that was kind of the last frontier. Although I'd like to remain having separate toothbrushes."

"I agree with that," Harry says, nodding, letting his fingers trail back up Louis' chest.

"What healthy communication skills," Louis says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry laughs again, bowing his head down so he rests it on Louis' bare chest. 

He lets his fingers tangle up in Louis' necklace, the cool metal of the paper airplane pressing against his fingertips, as he uses it as leverage to lean up and kiss Louis again. He could do it over and over again and not get sick of it.

"You know," he starts saying in between kisses. He has to say it before he gets too breathless... again. "We're going to have to give our mums that proper wedding some time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. :) Chapter 10 is actually an epilogue.


	10. Epilogue

"You look nervous," Niall says, watching Harry's reflection in the mirror.

"I'm not nervous," Harry insists. He fiddles with his sleeves, which probably betrays his words. "Honest."

"It'd be okay if you were nervous," Niall says. "I'd only take the piss a little."

Harry spins around in his seat, looking at Niall with a worried expression.

"It's just that most of them think this is a renewal thing," Harry says, slowly and seriously.

"Right, and it is," Niall repeats. "You're already married. You've been married for five years. No one's second guessing that."

"I mean, you and I both know that it's different. We haven't even been _together_ that long."

Niall rolls his eyes and offers Harry a swig from the bottle of whiskey in his hands.

"Do you honestly believe that? 'Cause I sure as hell don't."

Harry kicks his legs in frustration, his wingtips grazing the carpet.

He opens his mouth to protest, but Niall cuts him off.

"Listen. Pretty sure most married couples stop having sex after a decade of marriage or so, right? So what if you and Louis didn't shag the first two years of yours? Besides, he was away for half that time anyway! Everyone here knows that you and Louis have loved each other forever, since you were kids. Love changes. It grows. You have literally been saying this for the last three years, so what's with the sudden insecurity?"

This time, Niall forces the bottle into Harry's mouth, tipping up and forcing Harry to drink. Harry bats it away, swallowing what Niall managed to get in there. 

Harry sighs. "You're right. I know you're right."

"I know," Niall points out. "I've heard you make that speech about thirty odd times."

"I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?"

"Yes."

Harry sighs, throwing his head back. "I was supposed to be the calm and collected one," he moans to the ceiling above.

"Eh," Niall shrugs. "It wouldn't be fun being your best man if I didn't get to stop you from calling off the wedding."

Harry sits up, face looking insulted enough to draw a cackle out of Niall. "I was not about to call off the wedding."

"I know," Niall laughs. "You're way too easy to rile up."

\---

It took a little nagging on their mothers' parts, but Harry and Louis did finally get around to planning that wedding that the two of them had wanted.

Once he and Louis had fallen into the physical side of their relationship, it felt like the last piece of the puzzle slipping into place. Harry stopped wondering what people thought of them, and stopped feeling like he had to prove everyone wrong. As it turns out, he and Louis were a match from the start. It just took them a long time to be ready for each other.

The transition from 'pretending-to-be-married' to 'crap-we're-actually-married-and-now-we're together-what-does-that-mean' was smoother than Harry could have ever expected. Harry had no intention of looking elsewhere-- he knew that deep in his gut. Louis must have been on the same page, because they practically skimmed over the dating, and were instantly married.

Then again, it had seemed like their friendship was just one very long courtship.

So on one hand, this feels like a vow renewal-- which it technically is-- but for Harry and Louis it feels like a do-over.

This time, they're not decked out in dirty converse and questionable t-shirts. 

Harry is wearing an actual suit that he hired with their money. He feels so adult and then wonders if someone can secretly tell that he's still barely managing to get his life together. Is he even adult enough to do something like _get married_?

_Dummy,_ he reminds himself. He's already married.

He and Louis meet at the front of the seating area, not bothering with any overly formal aisle walking. 

"Hey," Harry mouths as he approaches Louis. Louis looks him up and down briefly, grinning.

"Hey," Louis responds, acting cool.

Their Justice of the Peace gets everyone's attention except the two of them, who are too busy making dorky faces at each other to notice.

"It's sweet," she says grandly, sweeping her arms out, "that two people who have known each other as long as these two, and who have already been through their initial honeymoon period with their marriage, still seem to focus in on each other as if everyone and everything else fades away."

Harry blushes at that, looking down and realising how cheesy they look.

This is also the point where his mum starts crying.

\---

Niall and Zayn rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to say their best man's speech first. Harry suspects because they want to beat the other to the obvious punchlines.

Louis' hand sits on his thigh, heat radiating through his pant leg. Harry resists the urge to tilt over and lay his head down on Louis' shoulder. All things considered, Harry is exhausted. And hungry. He is so ready to just go home and get into bed with his favourite guy. And possibly Spooky, their black kitten who is probably tearing through the boxes in the flat as they speak.

Zayn wins, and with a fist pump he celebrates, making sure Niall feels the shame of his loss.

As Niall returns to his seat next to Harry, Zayn pulls his notes out of his inside breast pocket.

"Here we go," Louis whispers.

"Try not to cry," Harry whispers back, leaning in so his breath ghosts across Louis' cheek.

Louis turns to grin at him, their faces grazing against each other. Louis leans in quickly to peck Harry on the lips, even without prompting from their families.

Harry distantly hears some cooing, but he ignores it in favour of smiling at Louis again. When he finally pulls his eyes away, Zayn is ready to start his speech.

"Well, it's only right that I get to be Louis' best man," Zayn starts off. His voice wavers slightly, clearly nervous to be speaking in front of all these people-- some whom he knows very well, others whom he has never even heard of. "As we all know, it was always supposed to be Harry as Louis' best man. I'm pretty sure that was the plan since they were thirteen. But plans change, eh?" He laughs as he looks up from his notes. "Although if there were any couple obsessed with each other enough to still have each other be their best men, it'd be these two." Cue laughter from the crowd. 

"Anyway," Zayn continues, "When Harry and Louis made a crazy last minute decision to get married a couple of years ago, for some unknown reason, I was the person they called to be their witness. If you haven't seen the photos from that day, let me paint you a picture. First, they were both dirt poor. Harry's jeans were ripped-- and I don't even think he bought them that way. They were wearing trainers. I'm pretty sure the woman at the registry office asked them to go change." More people chuckle, remembering them as fresh twenty-one year olds.

"I remember Louis telling me about them announcing to people that they had gotten married. Of course people were shocked. But people were shocked at the suddenness of the marriage, not the fact that these two decided to get hitched. I don't think anyone who has ever known Harry and Louis has thought that they weren't meant to be here. No one told them to slow down or that they weren't fit for marriage. Everyone knew that they were perfect for each other, not just as friends, but as spouses, too."

Louis turns to give Harry a quick wink.

"After my own wedding, Louis mentioned to me a conversation that he and Harry had had. If you know these two-- which I'm assuming you do, since you're here-- you'll understand. They both talked about how important friendships are, and how sometimes we prioritise our romantic relationships over our friendships. Now, I'm not sure why people do that. Maybe by fixating on just one person we make our love stronger. The truth is that we choose our friends similarly to how we choose our partners. If we're lucky, our partner turns out to be our best friend. These two are definitely the lucky ones."

Zayn bows a little at that, signaling the end of his speech. The end of his hair flops forward, and Louis extricates his hand for the sole purpose of clapping and cheering for Zayn.

Zayn lifts his glass and toasts the two of them, Harry's own hand held out and shaking as they toast.

When he finishes slurping a bit more champagne down, the drink bubbling down his throat, he feels Niall next to him stand and move towards the microphone. He and Zayn bump fists as Zayn passes it over, all competitiveness over the speeches forgotten.

"Cheers," Niall says. "Now, for those who don't know me, I'm Niall, Best Man Number One. I'm a bit of an outlier here, since I am neither English nor in the Army. I didn't know Harry and Louis from Holmes Chapel or from Bristol. And I'm one of the few people here that met them after they were married. But that does not mean that I am not fit to be Harry's best man here.

"Now, for example, while Zayn and Louis were off doing all sorts of mysterious Army stuff, I had to listen to Harry whinge all the time about how much he missed Louis."

"Hey, I had to do that with Louis, too!" Zayn interrupts with a shout, laughing as he does. This gets another laugh from everyone. Louis shrugs sheepishly, cheeks turning slightly pink in embarrassment. 

"Now maybe I'm biased because I met them when they were already married, but Harry and Louis have the type of relationship where their marriage actually strengthened their relationship. I dare say that they fell even more in love with each other once they were married," Niall adds with a wink in their direction.

"Oh subtle," Harry whispers, leaning in to butt heads with Louis.

"But even more than that, they're a couple who has been able to weather every change the world throws at them. Going to uni? Head off together. About to be separated? Get married. One heads off to join the Army, the other helps take care of his family. They've seen a couple of deployments through, something I am not envious of. When Harry went back to uni, I've never seen someone as devoted as Louis. When Louis was on base, he and Harry would play non-stop just so Harry would be practicing his instruments. When Harry finished his programme, I'm pretty sure that obnoxious high-pitched screaming in the middle of the ceremony belonged to Louis.” 

Harry wrinkles his nose, turning to laugh at Louis. Louis just shakes his head, beaming. He would deny that accusation for the rest of his life.

"With them two, you can see it's a partnership. Louis' career isn't anymore important than Harry's. They're just as willing to deal with each other's insufferable ideals and aspirations. In fact, I feel like that's part of what makes them perfect for each other. Louis wants to save the world, one child at a time. He's done deployments on mine detection, on goods and services distribution. Harry is the same way, but he wants to help children through music. I've seen them both touch lives. If I were a cornier person, I would mention how they've touched my life. But that sounds creepy even in my head so I'm going to let it go.

"The bottom line is this: Harry and Louis, without meaning to, became my picture of what I want in a relationship. They may not have always thought they would be the dream couple, but here they are. A few years later and even more in love than before. So once again, to Harry and Louis."

"Hear, hear," crows someone from the table to their right. Harry hears a few more people slurp a sip, so he tries to gain some composure.

\---

Harry and Louis are both nervous for their speeches, the long ones where they have to thank every single person in attendance, basically. For the most part, they're worried about leaving someone out. Louis' family alone requires a checklist. So Harry just requests to the DJ that they be allowed a little more time before they have to speak. Post-dessert, even. A few dances. 

Louis spins Harry around, who doesn't hesitate to ham it up. He gets serious right after though, swaying right into Louis' arms, letting their heads tilt together.

"This is nice," Louis mumbles. 

Harry breathes in Louis cologne, the Hugo Boss that he's come to associate with all of their big and formal moments of late. Dinners out. Holidays. 

"Yeah," Harry agrees. "I'm really hungry, though."

Louis laughs out loud, pulling back just enough to look Harry in the eyes. "Me too. Don't think I missed how you practically stole that petite four out of my nan's hands."

Harry giggles at that. They had been too busy making the rounds, thanking everyone, that their food had been snatched up without them looking. Harry had, in the course of the day, had a muesli bar, a couple of bites of mashed potatoes, and the stolen petite four. And some alcohol, which had been shoved into his hands by various sources. Normally he would have been dubious, but it's his vow renewal, dammit.

"She offered it," Harry insists, but he leans in to kiss Louis to distract him. Louis' eyes stay closed even after they separate, and Harry's stomach clenches as his eyes flutter open. It's crazy to him that Louis can still have that effect on him. That letting himself fall in love with Louis opened him up to more than he could have imagined.

"Maybe we can stop for burgers on the way home," Louis says, offering it up as a suggestion. 

Harry nods like an eager puppy. "Best husband ever," he coos, bringing Louis back closer to him, resting their heads together as if they were linked.

As amazing it is to have this night, for themselves and for their families, Harry is ready to be back in their flat. Even if it is a tip, and half-packed, it's theirs for now. 

It had been a long few months and there are a lot of changes in store for the two of them. They had both been busy, Harry finishing up his degree and Louis coming back from another deployment. In the midst of all of that, they had been trying to plan this ceremony, and then the higher-ups on base were starting to mention re-signing.

That had been the most difficult conversation of all. Re-signing meant another few years of Army life, which Louis had never really expected. He had always maintained he expected just to do his initial contract. But he had actually enjoyed it. He loved the community, loved getting to know his troop, and as hard as deployment was, he knew that he had gone and had experiences that most humans never do. 

But re-signing also meant getting moved, and neither of them knew where.

"It'd be fine," Harry had insisted. He had meant it. He'd travel the world over to be with Louis.

Louis also felt the same, but there were other priorities to keep in mind.

"What about," Louis had started. Harry remembers that he had wrung his hands nervously. "And I'm not saying we move back to Holmes Chapel, but maybe a bit closer. Like Manchester? Or Liverpool?"

Harry had clapped at that. 

"I think there are some good graduate programmes around there for you?" Louis had continued, voice unsure, as if he hadn't done hours upon hours of research.

Fast forward a few months and here they are, ready to go on another adventure, another new town. 

"I'm glad we did this," Harry whispers again, voice just barely carrying over the music. It feels right that they had this in Holywood. It would have been easier on their families if they had done it in England, but something about this town will always strike Harry in the heart. It feels a bit like falling in love and feeling alive. He had never thought that a small town could do that to him.

He'll miss high street and the shop. He'll miss the lunches with Sophia and Perrie, and the pints with Niall. He'll miss being neighbours with Liam, and those long car rides across the country just to get Morelli's ice cream with Zayn. 

If there's one thing that's true, though, it’s that he isn’t worried. Their little pack has been through half of it going missing several times over. They're not going to drift. 

Niall is already planning his first trip out to Manchester to see them at their new flat, and Harry suspects that he won't actually leave after that.

\---

"I never understood why you didn't change your last name," Harry's Great Aunt asks him, holding him close by the sleeve of his shirt. 

"Oh!" Harry says, turning toward her. "Did my mum not tell you?"

"Tell me what?" she asks. She looks around the table to see if anyone else knew either. They all shook their heads.

"We didn't think much of it the first time around," Harry insists. "But we've done a bit of thinking and talking and it feels right now to just... hyphenate?" He doesn't know why he poses it as a question. It's not a question. They've debated time and time again the merits of Styles-Tomlinson or Tomlinson-Styles.

"That's lovely," they all echo.

Harry nods. "Soon it'll be Styles-Tomlinson. Alphabetical, y'know?" he adds with a wink.

He feels both hands on his shoulder and he looks up to see Louis smiling down at him. "I don't think we can put the speeches off any more," he says. "I think some people are getting ready to leave."

Harry stands from where he was crouching, offering the ladies at the table a wave.

He grabs Louis' hand, and though they're both sweaty, it feels like he's right. The old folks aren't the only ones who are ready to go home.

They stand posed on the makeshift dance floor, the DJ handing both of them mics.

Before they even need to turn on the mics, everyone goes silent. Harry ducks his head, nervous, as he fiddles with the switch.

"Hi," he drawls in greeting. "We just wanted to thank you all for coming. It means so much to us that you still love us after we didn't invite you to the first party."

"There are just a couple of extra shout outs that we'd like to give," Louis says. "Please bear with us. First, the Styles-Cox half of the clan. Des, Anne, Robin, Gemma. I've always felt like a member of your family, even before I was one. The Tomlinson-Deakin crew: Mum, of course. Mark, Dan, Lottie, Fizzy, Phoebe, Daisy, and those little monsters running around, Doris and Ernie." 

Louis nods at Harry to continue. "We'd also like to thank our second family for being here for us. Zayn and Nialler, obviously, thank you for being the best best men. And you're right, we would have done the jobs ourselves if we hadn't been so busy. And Liam, for being the amazing bloke he is, and always making sure we take care of ourselves. Sophia and Perrie, for always giving us perspective, laughter, and some amazing stories."

"There are so many people that we feel the need to thank," Louis continues, "but then we would practically be reading the guest list. Please know that you've all been supportive of us, and now I'm going to stop, because I'm hearing myself and I sound really soppy."

Harry chuckles at that, grinning over at Louis. "Okay. I'll finish then. I guess I'd just like to leave you all with a quote that has always had a special place in my mind. You all know that we're sort of a reckless duo, up for an adventure, and all that. It's taken us a while to sort our lives out and really get into mind what we want. So without going too overboard, I thought I'd just share with you this quote. Speaking for myself, and also Lou, I guess, we really resisted some ideas in our youth on how we should be. Almost to the point of self-sabotage," he laughs. "But it makes me feel like we were inevitable. That it was always supposed to end up like this. Anyway, in this Douglas Adams book, the character Dirk has an interesting life philosophy, and it's never really stuck with me until recently. He says, 'I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.' 

"Please enjoy the rest of the cake. Well, he didn't say the bit about the cake. That's all me."

Louis takes the second mic before Harry can continue. "Thank you all for coming," he says finally.

Louis leans in for another kiss, slipping his hand back in Harry's as he does so. He squeezes tight, pressing the ring into Harry’s skin.

Harry's eyes flutter open again, staring at his best friend, his partner in literal crime. He thinks about the paper airplane necklace around Louis’ neck and he knows he's exactly where he needs to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I delayed and delayed, but all things must end. :p Obviously, I have to send another thanks to Shai, Sarah, and Daisy who helped me out a million times over with this. 
> 
> This has been the last year of my life basically, so if you've enjoyed it, I'd appreciate a comment/kudos/reblog/nice tags or anything else. But most of all, thank you for reading. :D

**Author's Note:**

> [rebloggable post](http://decisionsandrevisionsfic.tumblr.com/post/111405669093/title-for-now-and-forever-author) / [fic tumblr](http://www.decisionsandrevisionsfic.tumblr.com) / [personal](http://www.decisions-and-revisions.tumblr.com)


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